From Germantown to Ohio: Tracing the DeWeese Family Line

 Ancestry of Catherine DeWeese Jones

Source Note:
This narrative is based on The DeWees Family (Roberts, 1905), public historical records, and personal genealogical research conducted by the descendant and researcher, [Your Name]. The conclusions below represent the best understanding of the family lineage as of the time of writing.

Disclaimer:
The information presented here is part of ongoing research. While many names, dates, and relationships are drawn from well-documented sources, other connections—especially beyond the 4th great-grandparent level—may require further primary source confirmation. Researchers are encouraged to use caution when citing or expanding upon this tree. Corrections and confirmations are welcome as part of the verification process.

Ancestry of Catherine DeWeese Jones

Catherine DeWeese Jones was born on 19 December 1819 in Pennsylvania, and over the course of her life, she lived in Indiana and Ohio, where she died on 17 September 1900. She is part of a deeply rooted colonial American family, tracing her DeWeese lineage to early Dutch settlers who helped establish the Germantown settlement in Pennsylvania in the late 1600s.

Parents: Joseph DeWeese and Catherine Shafer

Catherine was the daughter of Joseph DeWeese and Catherine Shafer (surname also seen as Shaffer or Schaefer). Her parents likely lived in Pennsylvania at the time of her birth and possibly followed other DeWeese relatives in migrating westward. Joseph is placed as a son of Thomas DeWeese and Catharine Bissey based on family tradition and regional continuity, though further documentation is still being sought to confirm this definitively.

Grandparents: Thomas DeWeese and Catharine Bissey

Thomas DeWeese was born on 4 May 1770 and married Catharine Bissey on 5 April 1791. This marriage is documented in The DeWeese Family book and marks the beginning of a known branch that stretches from eastern Pennsylvania into frontier states such as Ohio, Indiana, and Missouri. While their children are not all listed in the book, this family is believed to have been part of the migration trend that brought many DeWeese descendants into the Midwest in the early 19th century.

Great-Grandparents: Samuel DeWeese and Elizabeth

Samuel DeWeese and his wife Elizabeth lived during the mid-1700s and had at least seven known children:

• Thomas DeWeese (Catherine’s grandfather)
• John DeWeese, who married Anna Maria Faust
• William DeWeese
• Elizabeth DeWeese, born 1777
• Samuel DeWeese Jr., born 1760 (married four times)
• Paul/Powell DeWeese
• David DeWeese

This family remained centered in Pennsylvania but began spreading into Ohio and the western frontier. They were likely affiliated with the Reformed Church, a common denomination among early German and Dutch settlers in the region.

2nd Great-Grandparents: Cornelius DeWeese

Cornelius DeWeese, a farmer, was a key figure in the early DeWeese family history. He and his brother William DeWeese jointly purchased 390 acres of land in 1708 in what became Skippack Township, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. Cornelius descended from Dutch immigrants and helped develop the agricultural base of the Pennsylvania interior. His line produced many descendants who were part of the 18th- and 19th-century westward expansion.

3rd Great-Grandparents: Gerrit Hendricks de Wees and Zytian

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Gerrit Hendricks de Wees, the immigrant ancestor, came to America from Zaandam, Holland, in

1689, settling first in New York and then in Germantown, Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania. There he purchased land and became part of the early Germantown community. He and his wife Zytian had four known children:

• Cornelius DeWeese
• William DeWeese – a noted paper-maker and elder in the Reformed Church
• Lewis DeWeese – settled in Delaware
• Wilhelmina DeWeese – married Nicholas (Claus) Rittenhouse

Gerrit’s land and legal dealings are well documented, as is the tradition that the family name “DeWees” originated from the Dutch word for “orphan.” He and his children were prominent contributors to both economic and religious life in early colonial Pennsylvania.

Legacy and Continuing Research

The DeWeese lineage is one of notable continuity from the colonial period through the westward migration of the 19th century. The family’s legacy includes skilled tradesmen, farmers, and community leaders. Through this ancestry, Catherine DeWeese Jones connects directly to some of the earliest European settlers in Pennsylvania.

As the researcher continues to explore and document this family’s history, additional sources, DNA evidence, and regional records will be used to confirm and expand the story.

What's in a Name? Tracing the Many Spellings of the Deweese Family Line

Let’s be honest — researching family history sometimes feels like trying to chase a greased pig at a county fair. And nothing proves that better than the Deweese family name.

You see, somewhere back in colonial Pennsylvania, my Deweese ancestors decided life wasn’t hard enough already. They added an extra challenge: a last name that can be spelled more ways than you can shake a stick at.

According to official records (and a few unofficial ones scribbled on the back of very old marriage licenses), you might find our family under:

• Deweese

• DeWeese

• De Weese

• DeWees

• Dewees

• Dewese

• Dewesee

• And if you squint hard enough at 1800s handwriting, even Dewis or De Wes.

Honestly, at this point, I’m just waiting to find a "De-Wheeze" in a Revolutionary War pension file.

Despite the spelling adventures, it all ties back to my great-great-great-grandmother, Catherine Deweese Jones. Catherine was born around 1820 in Pennsylvania, the daughter of Joseph Deweese and Elizabeth Shaffer. She later married James Jones II, and after his death, she had a son, George Washington Jones — my direct ancestor.

George W. Jones carried the Jones name forward, but the Deweese blood (and apparently the creative spelling gene) lived on. From Germantown, Pennsylvania, to Indiana farmhouses, to Michigan towns, the Deweese spirit — or should I say "DeWeesey essence" — stuck with us through every census taker who shrugged and just spelled it however they felt like that day.

So next time you can’t find your ancestors in a search because their name looks different, just remember: If it kind of looks like Deweese, sounds like Deweese, and resists every effort to spell it the same way twice, much like Deweese--it’s probably Deweese.

And if you’re related to me, it definitely is.

The Mifflin County Insurrection of 1791: A Fight for Justice

A Crisis in Post-Revolutionary Pennsylvania

In September 1791, the quiet town of Lewistown, Pennsylvania, was thrown into turmoil when an armed mob stormed the courthouse, intent on forcibly removing Judge Samuel Bryson from the bench. The attack was fueled by resentment, personal ambition, and a dangerous disregard for the rule of law.

As the situation spiraled out of control, the arrival of Colonel Daniel McFarland and his militia turned the tide, restoring order and ensuring that justice prevailed. The events of the Mifflin County Insurrection would become a significant chapter in Pennsylvania’s early history, illustrating the challenges of maintaining law and order in a rapidly changing nation.

A Conspiracy Against the Courts

The trouble began when Samuel Bryson was appointed second associate judge of the Mifflin County Court of Common Pleas. His previous role as Lieutenant Colonel of the militia had placed him in a position to influence officer promotions, and his opposition to commissioning William Wilson and David Walker as militia colonels led to their deep resentment.

Determined to remove Bryson by force, Wilson and Walker gathered a force of 40 armed men and marched into Lewistown with a fife playing, their intentions clear: seize the judge from the courthouse, force his resignation, and exile him to the rugged terrain along the Juniata River.

The Riot Breaks Out

As the mob arrived at the courthouse, Judge Bryson quickly folded his robe and retreated to an adjoining chamber, avoiding immediate capture. Meanwhile, Judge Story, another magistrate who had learned of the planned attack, attempted to sound the alarm but was intercepted and forcibly detained by the rioters.

The situation escalated as Wilson and Walker’s men stormed the courthouse, overpowering court officers and seizing Judge Bryson. It seemed as though the mob’s plan would succeed—until the next day, when the tables turned.

Col. Daniel McFarland & The Militia Response

On the day following the riot, Colonel Daniel McFarland arrived in Lewistown with the local militia, prepared to confront the insurrectionists. He delivered a strong address condemning the riot and declared that his forces would defend the judiciary at any cost. His firm stance immediately changed the course of events.

The rioters, sensing their impending defeat, began to waver. Their courage quickly faded in the face of McFarland’s unwavering force. Wilson and Walker, once emboldened, now found themselves isolated as their support crumbled. In a matter of hours, the insurrection collapsed. The court reconvened, and the judges issued a formal statement thanking McFarland and his militia for their swift action, acknowledging their role in upholding the integrity of the judiciary.

But tensions in Lewistown had not fully settled. That evening, another group of armed men attempted to storm the local prison to free the sheriff, who had been detained earlier in the day. Rumors spread that reinforcements from Tuscarora Valley were on their way, threatening to escalate the violence. Fortunately, before another confrontation could break out, news arrived that the sheriff had already been released, preventing further bloodshed.

The Aftermath of the Riot

The Mifflin County Insurrection was a stark warning about the dangers of lawlessness and unchecked ambition. Had it not been for the decisive action of Colonel McFarland and his forces, the attack on Judge Bryson could have set a dangerous precedent for Pennsylvania’s courts.

McFarland’s swift intervention ensured that justice remained intact and that those who sought to overthrow the courts by force did not succeed. His efforts not only ended the immediate crisis but also served as a reminder that the rule of law must be protected, even in the face of violent opposition.

Postscript: Identifying Colonel McFarland

The Colonel McFarland who played a key role in restoring order in Mifflin County was most likely Colonel Daniel McFarland of Pennsylvania (1731–1817). A seasoned military officer, he had previously served as a Commander of Rangers in Monongalia and Ohio Counties in 1778 and was involved in militia efforts during the Revolutionary War. He also had ties to Washington County, PA, where he helped establish Fort McFarland around 1772.

While there was another Col. Daniel McFarland from Massachusetts, his known activities were centered in New England, making it unlikely that he played a role in the events of Mifflin County. Given the location and military background of the Pennsylvania-based McFarland, it is almost certain that he was the leader who quelled the 1791 riot.

Sources Cited

• The Mifflin County Insurrection, Primary Source Transcription, Freeman’s Journal/North-American Intelligencer, September 28, 1791.
• Col. McFarland’s Role in the Riot, Philadelphia Gazette of the United States, September 28, 1791.
• DAR Application Summary on Daniel McFarland, Nellie Elizabeth Phillips Trotter, Daughters of the American Revolution Archives.
• McFarland’s Military Service & Land Ownership, Daniel McFarland Facts Document.
• Biographical Records of the McFarland Family, Descendants of Daniel McFarland.

Colonel Daniel McFarland: Soldier, Settler, and Defender of the Law

A Legacy of Leadership and Action

My McFarland Ancestry Chart starting with my grandmother

If history teaches us anything, it’s that some people don’t live quiet lives—and Colonel Daniel McFarland was one of them. Whether leading troops into battle, securing land in Pennsylvania’s frontier, or defending the legal system, his life was marked by duty, resilience, and bold action.

From Ulster to the American Frontier

Born in 1723 in Ulster, Ireland, McFarland was part of a Scottish family that had settled in Ireland for about a century before making the transatlantic leap. His uncle, Duncan McFarland, was among the group of Scotch-Irish immigrants who arrived in Boston Harbor on August 4, 1718. Raised in a pioneering atmosphere, Daniel grew up among settlers who would shape the American colonies.

A Man of Principle Who Fought for Independence

Before the American Revolution, McFarland had already gained military experience. He served in the French and Indian War (1756–1767) and later commanded a company of rangers in Monongalia and Ohio Counties from April 22 to July 20, 1778. By 1780, his unit was stationed in Pittsburgh, playing a key role in frontier defense.

Beyond combat, McFarland focused on protecting settlers. Around 1772, he established Fort McFarland* in Amwell Township, Washington County, Pennsylvania, providing a vital refuge during periods of conflict.

Building a Community

McFarland was not only a soldier—he was a settler and landowner. His land acquisitions in Washington County, Pennsylvania, allowed him to contribute to the development of the region. In 1794, he sold land to help establish North Ten Mile Baptist Church, ensuring that faith and community life would flourish for generations.

A Defender of the Law

McFarland was not just a warrior; he also stood for law and order. In 1791, he led a militia force in response to a violent riot in Mifflin County, Pennsylvania, that had threatened the court system. His leadership helped restore peace and uphold judicial authority.

Family, Estate, and Final Years

McFarland married Sarah Barber (1730–1812), and together, they had a large family, including:

• Mary McFarland (b. January 4, 1754)
• Sandy McFarland (b. February 3, 1755)
• William McFarland (b. December 17, 1756, married Hannah Kelsey)
• Sarah McFarland (b. November 19, 1760)
• Dolly McFarland (b. June 16, 1762)
• Daniel McFarland (b. January 4, 1764)
• Abel McFarland (b. July 2, 1765)
• Anna McFarland (b. January 5, 1767)
• James McFarland (b. July 31, 1768, d. July 16, 1769)
• Elizabeth McFarland (b. December 21, 1769, married Rev. William Hicks)

As he aged, McFarland moved to Warren County, Ohio, where he passed away on December 14, 1817, at the age of 87. His estate, valued at $800, was administered by William Houlston and John Benham, while his widow Elizabeth McFarland later relinquished her right to manage it.

His children and heirs were formally identified in a land partition record, ensuring that his legacy lived on through the next generation of McFarlands.

A Life of Courage and Influence

Colonel Daniel McFarland was the real deal—a man who:

✔ Fought in two wars (French & Indian War and the American Revolution).
✔ Commanded rangers and built Fort McFarland to protect settlers.
✔ Helped establish a community church and contributed to local development.
✔ Stood for law and order in a time of political unrest.

Not bad for a Scotch-Irish immigrant who started life on the rugged frontiers of early America.

His story is a fascinating piece of American history, and his impact can still be seen today in the descendants who carry on the McFarland name.

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*Fort McFarland*

Fort McFarland, located in Amwell Township, Washington County, Pennsylvania, was one of two forts built to protect settlers in the region between 1770 and 1790. It was situated on the farm of Peter Garrett and served as a refuge for early pioneers, including those who had legally patented their land after initial squatter settlements. The fort was closely associated with the North Ten mile Baptist Church, which traces its origins back to 1772. Due to frequent conflicts with Native American groups, early churchgoers were often forced to hold their meetings inside Fort McFarland for safety.

Citation: Busch, Clarence M. Report of the Commission to Locate the Site of the Frontier Forts of Pennsylvania, Volume Two: The Frontier Forts of Western Pennsylvania. State Printer of Pennsylvania, 1896, pp. 399-436.

Other Sources:

📜 DAR Application Summary – Military service & family history.
📜 Col. McFarland Documents – Mifflin County Riot, Fort McFarland.
📜 Daniel McFarland Facts – Estate details, burial, land partition.
📜 Daniel McFarland Probate – Estate administration, bond details.
📜 Descendants of Daniel McFarland – Family lineage & migration history.

Everyday Life in Hamilton County, Illinois, Around 1900

A Personal Connection to the Past

Genealogy isn’t just about dates and documents—it’s about people. It’s about stepping into their world, imagining their struggles, and hearing their laughter echo through time. For me, tracing my family’s history has always been more than a research project. It’s personal.

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The source of much of this insight comes from a letter written by Opal Mezo Magill to Bertha White, which was shared with me by Bertha. Both Opal and Bertha are descendants of William C. Mezo and Martha Braden, my great-great-great-grandparents. Opal, writing from her own memories, recalls conversations with her great uncles and great aunts—people who were alive between 1850 and 1900. Their stories paint a vivid picture of daily life in Hamilton County, Illinois, at the turn of the century, from the hard work required to survive to the moments of joy that brought families together.

My great-great-great-grandparents lived in Hamilton County, Illinois, in the late 1800s. William C. Mezo and Martha Braden (mentioned in Opal Mezo Magill’s letter) were tenant farmers, making their living off the land. Their son, Moses Wesley Mezo, my great-great-grandfather, carried on that way of life, raising his daughter Nora Mezo, who in turn became the mother of my grandmother, Bertha Lawson Peterson. Though I never met them, their way of life still feels familiar.

Reading accounts like Opal’s letter is like opening a window to a world where life was slower, harder, and yet filled with the kind of grit and determination that seems almost legendary today.

Handmade Homes and Family Ingenuity

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Imagine a simple log cabin—two rooms, maybe three if they were lucky. The walls, worn smooth by generations of hands, held only the essentials. A cook table, a dish safe, a highboy for clothes, and barrels filled with flour and meal. Space was at a premium, so beds were stacked with trundle beds tucked beneath, ready to be pulled out at night.

The men of the family didn’t just farm; they built. Tables, chairs, and cupboards weren’t bought—they were made. And the craftsmanship wasn’t just practical; it carried a sense of pride. I like to think every piece of handmade furniture had a story, a fingerprint of the one who built it.

The Land Was Their Livelihood

There were no grocery stores stocked with endless choices—families lived by what they could grow, raise, trade, or make themselves. Honey was gathered from bee trees, and sweet sorghum was pressed from homegrown cane. Fruits and pumpkins were dried and canned in stone jars, sealed with wax chipped off long red sticks and melted to make an airtight seal.

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Milk cows were essential, providing fresh milk for drinking, butter, and buttermilk. The concept of "expiration dates" didn’t exist—milk was left to clabber naturally before being churned into butter. The idea of daily, fresh butter is enough to make anyone’s mouth water—though I imagine churning it by hand on a hot day might make you rethink store-bought options.

Meat didn’t come wrapped in plastic but from their own livestock. Fattened hogs, chickens, and eggs were both sustenance and currency, traded or sold for necessities like shoes and cloth. And forget memory foam mattresses—goose-down feather beds were the ultimate luxury, filled with feathers plucked from their own geese and ducks.

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And then there were smokehouses—filled with hickory-smoked pork, the scent hanging in the air like a promise of good meals ahead. Those who used tobacco? They grew it, dried it, and twisted their own.

Work, Play, and the Rhythm of Life

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Despite the backbreaking labor, there was always time for family, neighbors, and fun. Threshing, harvesting, and hay baling weren’t just chores—they were social gatherings. Dozens of cousins would show up, pitching in, swapping stories, and making even the hardest work more bearable.

And when the work was done? Music. Families with organs, violins, mandolins, or guitars would gather and play late into the evening, filling the night with melodies carried through the open windows of those small cabins.

Children found entertainment without screens—hide and seek, horseshoes, marbles, and ball games filled their days. I can almost hear the echoes of their laughter bouncing off the rolling farmland, see the dust kicked up by their feet as they chased each other in the twilight.

And the discussions? They were serious. Most parents were well-read, debating worldwide events, politics, and—perhaps most of all—the Bible.

Why the Past Still Matters

It’s one thing to know your ancestors lived in a certain place at a certain time. It’s another to imagine their hands kneading bread, their voices calling their children home at dusk, their boots stomping the dirt as they walked behind a plow.

I’ll never meet my great-great-great-grandparents, but I can feel them. In every wooden chair made by hand, in every jar of preserves sealed with wax, in every song played on an old violin late into the night.

Genealogy isn’t just about the past. It’s about the way the past lives on in us.

And when I read stories like Opal’s letter, I don’t just see history. I see home

More Than a Reunion: How the Elmores Kept Their History Alive

Honoring the Past, Celebrating the Present, and Connecting the Future

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Imagine it’s the early 1950s. The summer sun is beating down, and cars are pulling up to a park or fairground. Out spill generations of Elmores—some meeting for the first time, others picking up conversations as if no time had passed. Babies are being passed around, teenagers are trying to sneak away, and the elders are standing off to the side, quietly watching and remembering. There’s laughter, storytelling, and an unmistakable feeling of belonging. Tables are covered with homemade pies, fried chicken, and enough side dishes to feed a small army. Someone’s passing around old photographs—black-and-white faces staring back, daring the younger ones to ask, “Who was this?” The stories start flowing, about hardships, triumphs, wars survived, and farms built from nothing.

Genealogists often dream of uncovering long-lost family connections, finding a piece of history that ties generations together. Sometimes, these discoveries come through census records, land deeds, or DNA matches. But other times, the most meaningful clues are found in something more personal—the stories passed down, the gatherings held, and the memories recorded in newspapers.

Stories That Shaped Us: Remembering the Elmore Pioneers

The Elmore Family Reunions were more than just an annual event; they were a living record of the family’s history, a time when descendants of Missouri’s Elmore pioneers came together to celebrate their shared heritage. For decades, these reunions were well-attended, bringing in family members from all across the country to honor their ancestors, including Elisha Elmore, George W. Elmore, Jesse Elmore, and John Elmore, who settled in Missouri in the 1850s.

Each reunion was a blend of history and celebration—a time to enjoy homemade meals, share family stories, and remember those who came before. Programs featured congregational singing, historical reflections, and even love letters from the past, allowing younger generations to hear the voices of their ancestors in ways that went beyond names and dates on a family tree.

These newspaper records of Elmore reunions give us a rare glimpse into who attended, what stories were told, and how the family honored their past. They remind us that genealogy isn’t just about finding records—it’s about understanding the lives behind them.

The Elmore reunions were a testament to the power of family storytelling, and the memories they preserved continue to connect generations long after the last gathering ended.

A Love Letter from the past

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Not all stories told at these reunions were about war and hardship. Some were about love. During the 5th Annual Reunion, something special happened. Mrs. Tim Elliott, the granddaughter of Elisha and Isabell Elmore, stood up to read a letter. But this wasn’t just any letter—it was one written in 1849 by her grandfather, Elisha, to his sweetheart before they were married. Mrs. Elliott, the daughter of Noah Elmore and Arilla Jeffries, must have felt the weight of history in her hands as she read words written over a century earlier. This was her grandfather—not as an old Civil War veteran or a Missouri settler, but as a young man in love. I imagine silence fell over the crowd as she shared his words. Maybe some laughed at how different love letters sounded in the 1800s. Maybe others felt the deep connection between past and present, realizing that long before Elisha became the patriarch of a sprawling family, he was just a young man writing to the woman who would become his future.

These reunions weren’t just for the sake of tradition. They were living, breathing history lessons—through the voices of those who lived it. There were hymns sung together, reminding everyone of the faith that bound the family. There were sermons and benedictions, given by Elmore descendants who had become pastors. There were memorial services, honoring family members who had passed since the last gathering. And there were stories told, again and again, for the next generation. 

Though the reunions may no longer take place as they once did, the legacy they built is still alive in the stories we tell today. As long as we continue sharing, remembering, and reconnecting, the spirit of the Elmore reunions will never truly fade.

Houston Republican (MO)

Thu, Jul 13, 1950 ·Page 1

Betrayal or Survival? How Elisha Elmore Navigated the Civil War”

Introduction

A fictional depiction of 10th Missouri Infantry
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Elisha Elmore’s military service during the American Civil War is a compelling story of shifting allegiances, survival, and the chaos of war. From enlisting in the Confederate Army in 1862, to deserting in 1863, and then taking an Oath of Allegiance to the Union, Elmore’s story illustrates the complexities faced by soldiers from divided states like Missouri. His experiences, documented in multiple military records, reveal a man who endured illness, imprisonment, and political strife while navigating the turbulent wartime landscape.

Confederate Enlistment & Absence

The official records provide the specifics of Elisha Elmore’s brief Confederate service. On July 29, 1862, he enlisted in Company G, 10th Missouri Infantry (Steen’s Regiment) at West Plains, Missouri, under recruiter Simon Harris for a three-year term. His regiment, composed of Missouri men aligned with the Confederacy, was engaged in efforts to maintain Southern control over the region.

However, Elmore’s time in active service was short-lived. By November 14, 1862, he fell ill and was left behind at Clarksville, Arkansas, while his unit moved forward. No records indicate that he ever rejoined his regiment.

Marked as a Deserter

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As months passed without his return, Confederate records officially declared him a deserter. By March-April 1863, muster rolls noted: "Left sick at Clarksville, Nov 14, 1862. Now considered a deserter." On January 30, 1863, his desertion was formally recorded at Little Rock, Arkansas, and he was removed from the Confederate rolls.

Military and Political Controversy

"By early 1863, the Union Army aggressively sought to control Confederate desertions and suspected rebel sympathizers in Missouri. Elisha, now in Union custody at Rolla, found himself entangled in this crackdown. Union records regarding his imprisonment suggest that his detention may have had more to do with wartime corruption and shifting allegiances than any concrete military violation." Correspondence from Houston, Missouri, dated February 7, 1863, states:

"Elisha Elmore, who is represented as a prisoner in Rolla, complains of great wrong from Union people, by Federal officers and soldiers in being thus imprisoned. He says Tate, Taylor & others visited him with a file of soldiers, took him, and detailed him with bond of $1500 as a result. They are holding him, he says, for the sole purpose that they force money from him. A hard case of wrong & cruel Union men."

This letter, forwarded to Major General Samuel R. Curtis, raised concerns about the improper treatment of men like Elmore. Another letter from Major Wm. Barr states:

"One man by the name of Elisha Elmore, my men sent him here to Rolla. Please release him for he is a Union man. I have seen for further support to inquire of persons who reside in your town & have been in the army. He is not the proper sort unjustly. Union citizens have suffered at the hands of those men near Rolla."

These records indicate that Elmore may have been a victim of wartime chaos, accused of being a Confederate by some and defended as a Union supporter by others. Ultimately, his Oath of Allegiance to the Union secured his release, though under strict conditions.

Union Allegiance: A Forced Oath?

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Within days of being officially marked as a deserter, Elmore appeared in Union custody in Rolla, Missouri, on February 2, 1863, where he was required to swear an Oath of Allegiance to the United States. The exact timeline of his movements between November 1862 and February 1863 remains unclear. It is possible that he was already in Union custody before January 30, 1863, and that the Confederate Army only formalized his desertion after realizing he would not return.

The oath stated:

"I solemnly swear that I will support, protect, and defend the Constitution and Government of the United States against all enemies, whether domestic or foreign; that I will bear true faith, allegiance, and loyalty to the same, any ordinance, resolution, or law of any State Convention or Legislature to the contrary notwithstanding; and further, that I will well and faithfully perform all the duties which may be required of me by the laws of the United States."

The circumstances surrounding this oath suggest that Elmore may have been captured by Union forces or sought protection after being left sick in Clarksville. His name appeared in Union military correspondence, indicating that he was imprisoned in Rolla and that several appeals were made for his release. Some officials claimed he was a Union man being unjustly held, while others accused Union soldiers of corruption, extortion, and mistreatment of civilians like Elmore.

A War-Torn Region: How the War in Missouri Shaped Elmore’s Fate

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Elmore’s predicament was not unique—Missouri was deeply divided, with shifting loyalties that forced men like him to make life-altering decisions. Understanding the brutal nature of the war in Missouri provides context for why his imprisonment and oath-taking unfolded as they did. South-Central Missouri, was a volatile and contested region during the Civil War, where loyalties were often blurred. Guerrilla warfare was rampant, with Confederate partisans and bushwhackers frequently clashing with Union troops. Union forces, determined to secure critical supply lines, stationed troops at Rolla, Houston, and Salem, the very locations where Elisha Elmore’s name appears in military records. These posts guarded the Southwest Branch of the Pacific Railroad and the Wire Road, both essential for moving troops and supplies westward.

Commanders such as Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Weydemeyer and Colonel John M. Glover were tasked with maintaining order in the region, often dealing with deserters, divided civilian allegiances, and ongoing guerrilla attacks. The brutal nature of the war in Missouri meant that justice was often swift—Confederate prisoners were sometimes executed without trial, especially in Rolla, where Union officers struggled to maintain control.

For Elmore, navigating this landscape must have been perilous. As a Confederate deserter, he would have been viewed with suspicion by both sides. Whether Elmore made his way to Union lines willingly or was taken into custody remains unclear, but his presence in Rolla placed him within the expanding reach of Union forces. His decision to take an Oath of Allegiance may have been an act of survival in an environment where one’s past actions could easily lead to imprisonment—or worse.

Conclusion: A Soldier’s War-Torn Journey

A new beginning
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Elisha Elmore’s Civil War experience was not one of a traditional soldier who fought from enlistment to war’s end. Instead, his journey was defined by illness, desertion, and a forced allegiance shift. Whether he originally enlisted in the Confederate Army out of loyalty or necessity is unclear, but his decision to leave and later swear allegiance to the Union suggests a pragmatic approach to survival in a divided state.

Sources

1. Company Muster Rolls, Confederate 10th Missouri Infantry, July 29 - October 31, 1862; September - December 31, 1862; March - April 1863
2. Confederate Service Record, Official Record of Desertion, January 30, 1863
3. Parsons’ Brigade Records, Missouri Volunteers
4. Union Oath of Allegiance, February 2, 1863, Rolla, Missouri
5. Union Military Correspondence, February 3-8, 1863 (Letters regarding Elisha Elmore’s imprisonment)
6. Civil War in Pulaski County, Missouri (Historical analysis of guerrilla warfare and Union strategy)
7. Joseph Weydemeyer and Col. John M. Glover’s Reports, Rolla District, 1862-1863

The Life and Legacy of Elisha Elmore

Elisha Elmore: A Pioneer of Texas County, Missouri

My Elmore ancestors (starting with my with grandmother, Bertha Lawson Peterson

Elisha Elmore was a man of resilience and deep familial ties, a pioneer who left Morgan County, Tennessee, in search of new opportunities on the western frontier. His wife, Isbell Ball Elmore, was also born in Tennessee, and together they embarked on a journey that would take them westward. The couple has not been found in the 1850 census, which suggest they were still in transit at the time of enumeration.  By 1851, the couple had settled in Crawford County, Missouri, where their first child was born.  By the late 1850s, Elisha and his family had established their home in Texas County, Missouri, where he would remain for the rest of his life. Like many settlers of his time, Elisha sought land, stability, and a future for his family in the rugged yet promising landscape of the Ozarks. Over time, he became an integral part of his community, leaving behind a legacy that his descendants continue to honor today.

Early Life and Family

Elisha and Isabell starting their life in Missouri
Image create by AI DALL-E tool

Born on November 11, 1820, in Morgan County, Tennessee, Elisha Elmore grew up during a time of westward expansion and increasing migration into frontier territories. His wife, Isbell Ball Elmore, was also a Tennessee native, and together they ventured west in search of new opportunities. By 1851, the couple was living in Crawford County, Missouri, where their first child, George Malon Elmore, was born. Their migration from Tennessee to Missouri likely occurred between 1850 and early 1851, as they have not been located in the 1850 census. By the late 1850s, they had settled permanently in Texas County, Missouri, where they raised a large family. Their children included George Malon (1851), Martha Angeline (1854), William Henry (1857), Dewitt Clinton (1861), Noah Francis (1863), Jesse Tennessee (1866), and Jackson Theodore (1870).

Elisha Elmore became a long-term resident of Roubidoux, Texas County, Missouri, appearing in multiple census records from 1860 to 1900. As a settler in a border state fraught with division during the Civil War, he found himself caught in the political and military turmoil of the time. In 1862, at the age of 42, his life took a dramatic turn when he became involved in the war—an event that led to his enlistment in the Confederate Army, subsequent desertion, and an eventual oath of allegiance to the Union. His decision to switch allegiance was not uncommon among Missourians, many of whom were forced to navigate shifting loyalties during the war.

Elisha Elmore’s Military Service

A fictional depiction of 10th MO Infantry
Image create by AI DALL-E tool

In July 1862, Elmore enlisted in the 10th Missouri Infantry (Confederate), also known as Steen’s Regiment, at West Plains, Missouri, under Simon Harris for a term of three years. However, his service was short-lived. By November 14, 1862, he was recorded as left sick at Clarksville, Arkansas, and his name appeared on muster rolls as absent. His condition did not improve, and by January 30, 1863, he was officially recorded as a deserter at Little Rock, Arkansas.

Soon after his desertion, on February 2, 1863, Elmore appeared before a Union provost marshal in Rolla, Missouri, where he was required to swear an oath of allegiance to the United States. By taking this oath, he formally renounced his Confederate service and pledged loyalty to the Union. Whether this was a strategic decision for survival or a change in conviction remains unknown, but it marked a significant shift in his wartime journey.  Click here for more on Elisha's military story.

Life After the War

Following the Civil War, Elmore returned to Texas County, where he resumed life as a farmer and family man. Despite the challenges of war and Reconstruction, he continued to be an integral part of his community, appearing in census records through the late 1800s.

On February 18, 1897, his wife Isabell "Ibbie" Ball Elmore passed away near Roby, Texas County, Missouri. Their marriage had lasted nearly five decades, and together they had raised a large family. Her death marked a profound loss for Elisha, as they had shared the challenges of frontier life, war, and rebuilding in its aftermath. However, he remained active in his community and faith.

Later Years and Legacy

Elisha Elmore, affectionately known as "Uncle Lisha," was widely respected in his community. By the time of his passing on October 9, 1903, at the age of 84, he had become one of Houston, Missouri’s oldest and most well-known citizens. He was described in his obituary as a highly regarded man, respected by all who knew him. His legacy extended through his four sons, one daughter, and numerous grandchildren.

His final resting place is Pilot Knob Cemetery, Texas County, Missouri, where his legacy lives on in the descendants who still honor his contributions today.

 

Lessons in Genealogy: Revisiting the Past with Fresh Eyes

Unraveling the Mystery of Joel Webb’s Wife: Was She Really Nancy?

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Genealogy is a puzzle, and sometimes, the pieces we think fit perfectly turn out to be misplaced. My great-great-grandfather George H. Peterson married Nancy Webb, the granddaughter of Joel Webb, and for years, I believed Joel’s wife was Nancy Estes—a widely accepted assertion among researchers. However, as I trace my paternal lineage and piece together my Webb and Estes ancestors' migration patterns, I’ve had to reconsider that assumption. Upon closer scrutiny, I found compelling evidence that Nancy may not have been Joel Webb’s wife at all. Instead, another name has emerged: Fanny Estes."

I thought I had hit a roadblock in proving the identity of Joel Webb’s wife. Now, that roadblock has taken a new turn. It appears to be Fanny Estes rather than Nancy Estes.

Revisiting the Will of Elisha Estes

It is easy to accept commonly held beliefs in genealogy, especially when multiple researchers cite the same information. For years, it was assumed that Nancy Estes was Joel Webb’s wife because of her ties to the same families found in his migration path. However, when I took a closer look at the 1819 will of Elisha Estes (Roane County, Tennessee)—a document I was already familiar with—I realized that it does not name a daughter Nancy Webb at all. Instead, it lists Fanny Webb.

The will includes several daughters (spelling may be off):

"A closer look at Elisha Estes’ will."

• Elizabeth Crumbless
• Wilmouth Mullican
• Jenney Neighbors
• Susanna Estes
• Fanny Webb
• Mary Brister

Since Nancy does not appear in the will, I now have to consider the possibility that Joel Webb’s wife was actually Fanny, not Nancy. This is a critical distinction because Fanny was commonly a nickname for Frances, but not for Nancy. Now, the challenge is to confirm whether Fanny Webb was the same person previously believed to be Nancy or if a mistake had been made in previous research.

What This Means for Webb Family Research

 If Fanny Webb was actually Frances Estes, then some of the past assumptions about Joel Webb’s wife need to be reconsidered:

• Did Joel Webb’s wife appear in census records as Frances Webb?
• Are there land or probate records listing Joel and Frances (Fanny) Webb together?
• Could earlier Estes family documents confirm that Fanny and Nancy were different people?

While this discovery does not change the broader connections between the Webb, Estes, Mullican, Brister, and Neighbors families—who frequently appeared together in land records, wills, and migration patterns—it does shift the focus of research to confirming records for Fanny (Frances) Webb rather than searching under the name Nancy.

Final Thoughts: The Importance of Revisiting Assumptions

This finding serves as a valuable lesson in genealogy: just because something is widely repeated does not mean it is correct. By going back to the original sources, questioning assumptions, and avoiding reliance on secondhand information, we can uncover details that change the narrative of our family history.

It is also a reminder that even the best researchers make mistakes. No matter how respected or thorough someone’s work is, we must verify information for ourselves. Anyone reading my blog should take that same approach—use my research as a guide, but always confirm the facts independently.

Moving forward, my research will focus on confirming whether Fanny Webb was indeed Joel Webb’s wife and whether she was the same person as Nancy (Nany) Estes or someone entirely different. Genealogy is a process of constant discovery, and this is one more step toward uncovering the truth.

Have you ever found an error in your family research that changed everything? How did you go about correcting it? Share your experiences in the comments!

 

From Orphan to Overcomer: A Story of Grit

A Rocky Start: A Name and a Family in Flux

Roy F. Peterson’s life was a remarkable journey of resilience, adaptation, and determination. From his tumultuous childhood to his hardworking adulthood, Roy faced challenges that could have broken a lesser man, yet he persevered.

Roy F. Peterson

Born in Nevada, Missouri, on January 1, 1897, Roy Peterson’s life began in tragedy. His parents, John Robert Peterson and Mary Thompson, died of pneumonia just days apart when Roy was only six weeks old, leaving him and his three older siblings orphaned. With no immediate family able to take them in, the children were separated, each facing an uncertain future.

Ora Crane (seating) and Liza Hull

Roy’s infancy was shaped by Ora Crane, a young woman who took him in and raised him as her own. At the time, Ora was married to Gilbert Grummons, and Roy was initially known as Roy Grummons. This was a period of relative stability, but it wouldn’t last. On February 1, 1906, Gilbert Grummons died in a tragic train accident, leaving Ora a widow with Roy in her care. Just five months later, on July 2, 1906, she married Archie Berryhill in Kansas. After this marriage, Roy took on the surname Berryhill, and for much of his youth, he was known as Roy Berryhill.

Though he had no memory of his biological parents, Ora Crane was the only mother Roy ever knew. She provided him with love, security, and a sense of belonging. However, tragedy struck again in 1908 when Ora died suddenly. At just 11 years old, Roy was once again left without a mother. This loss must have been deeply traumatic, as it severed the only maternal bond he had ever known. Just two years earlier, in 1906, Ora’s husband, Gilbert Grummons, had died tragically in a train accident under suspicious circumstances. The instability caused by his death likely impacted Ora’s ability to provide for Roy, making her untimely passing even more devastating.

Archie Berryhill’s second wife, who became Roy’s stepmother, was not as kind or nurturing. According to family accounts, she treated Roy poorly, making his adolescence all the more difficult. It was a stark contrast to the warmth Ora had given him, reinforcing the instability of his childhood.

Meanwhile, Roy’s older brother, George Monaghan Peterson, had been placed with another family and eventually embraced their surname, Monaghan. Unlike Roy, George had no connection to his Peterson roots and fully assimilated into his new identity. Roy, however, struggled with his shifting surnames and never truly belonged to any one family until adulthood.

An Early Life on His Own

By his teenage years, Roy was already fending for himself. In 1914, at the age of 17, he left home to “see the world.” He attempted to hop a freight train in Silvis, Illinois, but a sudden jolt sent him tumbling beneath the wheels. His right arm was mangled and had to be amputated several inches below the shoulder. It was a life-altering event, yet Roy never let it define him.

  

Roy Visit's to California looking for his sister

In the following years, he continued to make his own way, working various jobs despite his disability. According to family stories, he completed his high school education in Macon, Missouri, a significant achievement given his unstable upbringing.

Reuniting with Family: A Brother Lost and Found

Roy and Robert. Date Unknown (1920s?)

Despite the hardships of their early separation, Roy reconnected with his brother, Robert Peterson, as early as 1917—just ten years after their parents' passing. Though they had been raised apart, their reunion marked the beginning of a renewed bond, proving that even in the face of separation, family ties could be rediscovered and strengthened.

Marriage, Work, and Family Life

Roy & Bertha with their first child

On March 28, 1920, Roy married Bertha Ellen Lawson in Vada, Missouri. The couple moved frequently in the early years of their marriage, as shown by the birthplaces of their children. They lived in Howell County, Texas County, and Shannon County, Missouri, before relocating to Arkansas and eventually Washington State.

Roy proved himself to be a hardworking man, taking on jobs that required skill and precision despite his missing arm. The 1940 census lists him as a timekeeper for the WPA State Mineral Survey in Madison County, Arkansas. Given the nature of the mineral survey, his role likely involved recording data, overseeing schedules, or keeping track of equipment and workers. It’s remarkable to think that a man with one arm was working in an industry often associated with physical labor and fieldwork.

By the 1940s, Roy and his family spent time in Colorado, where he worked as a welder for Woeber Auto Body & Manufacturing Co. A 1944 letter from his employer described him as a “first-class welder” and noted that his missing arm never affected his determination or ability to get the job done.

A New Start in Washington

In early 1945, Roy and his family relocated to Tacoma, Washington, where he worked as a welder at Todd Pacific Shipyard. The shipyard, previously known as Seattle-Tacoma Shipbuilding Corp., was a major contributor to the U.S. Navy during World War II. Roy’s ability to secure work in such an industrial environment—despite his physical limitations—was a testament to his perseverance and skill. The 1945 Tacoma City Directory lists Roy and Bertha living at 280 Omak, Tacoma, WA, confirming their presence in the area before moving on to Yakima.

At the end of the 1940s, Roy and Bertha moved to Yakima, Washington, where they put down lasting roots. The 1950 census lists Roy as an automobile mechanic, working in a repair garage. Though he later retired, he remained active in the community. He eventually became a fire insurance inspector, a job that likely suited his attention to detail and knowledge of machinery.

Roy in front of the garage he managed with his 3 sons (sitting/keeling/leaning on ground)

Roy working in his home shop (Yakima, WA)

In later years, Roy was a member of the X Handicapped Club, an organization that supported individuals with disabilities,

 Lasting Legacy

Roy Peterson passed away on January 22, 1972, in Yakima, Washington, at the age of 75. He was survived by his wife, Bertha, and their children: Meribell, Nora, Hazel, Velma, Charles, Olen, and a still-living son. He left behind 38 grandchildren and 21 great-grandchildren at the time of his passing, a testament to the large family he built despite his difficult beginnings.

Roy’s life was one of constant adaptation. From losing his parents as an infant to surviving a devastating injury, from changing names multiple times to raising a large family, he never allowed hardship to dictate his path. He may have been passed between families as a child, but as an adult, he created a family of his own—one that remembers him not for his struggles, but for his perseverance, work ethic, and resilience.