400 Years Later: A House Still Standing 52 Ancestors 2022 Prompt “Preservation”

Cottonworth Farmhouse: Home of My Ninth Great Grandfather John Osgood and Family

John Osgood: 1595-1651 (9^th Great-Grandfather, maternal side)
Mary Osgood Ingalls: 1633-1686 (8^th Great-Grandmother, maternal side)
 

Serendipity led me to discover the 400-plus-year-old property where my ninth great-grandfather once lived. It all started when I received a notice from FamilySearch that someone had posted a story about one of my 8^th Great-Grandfathers. To my surprise, this man, John Stevens, was someone I did not yet have in my Ancestry tree.  This sent me back to Ancestry to search records from 1630s Massachusetts. While filling out this new branch of my family tree, I discovered a new ninth-great-grandfather, John Osgood.

So how did I get from John Stevens to John Osgood? I had started building John Stevens’ family tree. He had several children, including a son named Joseph, who was my 7^th great-grandfather. Joseph married a woman named Mary Ingalls, the daughter of Henry Ingalls and his wife Mary Osgood. That led me to Mary Osgood’s parents, John Osgood and Sarah Ann Booth Osgood.

John Osgood immigrated to Massachusetts in 1638. He helped to found the town of Andover, naming the town after the area in England where he was born, raised and was married. To my surprise, other researchers working on this family had traced John not just back to England, but to the actual house where he was living when he decided to emigrate. This house is called Cottonworth Farmhouse and still exists in Wherwell, Hampshire.

Of course, I had to Google the house. To my delight, I discovered that it had recently been listed for sale, and had a series of photos of the interior and exterior attached to the listing. What a find!

Street view of Cottonworth Farmhouse

The real estate listing describes Cottonworth Farmhouse as follows:

“A traditional Grade II Listed farmhouse situated in this small hamlet in the Test Valley. Having been owned by the same family for several generations the property offers much charm and character with exposed beams and open fireplaces. The accommodation is generous at just over 2500 sq ft and well suited to family life.”

The house’s address is SU 33 NE Wherwell Fullerton Road.  The sellers were asking a price of one million pounds, which equals $1,165,000 US currency.

Living room with beamed ceiling

Grade II Listing is similar to a listing on the National Historic Register here in America; the house has historic value or possible architectural significance, so any alterations or additions must meet with government approval. The Historic England website describes the house as follows:

“House. C17 timber-framed house, with C18 brick cladding, and a ½-hipped tile roof. T-shaped structure of 1 storey and attic, 3 windows to the south front. The walls are of English bond, with cambered openings, plinth. Casements, 1 gabled dormer with sill at eaves level. Boarded porch. A later outshot on the north-west side has a slate roof.”

Master Bedroom

While I still have a lot of records to locate to more fully flesh out the life of John Osgood, I am fairly confident that he is my ancestor. Other researchers have done a good job tracking down records that seem to match him and his family. Even sources in the Wherwell area of Hampshire have accepted the research. Here is a passage from the Wherwell & Chilbolton History Group’s website (Wherwellhistory.com), recounting a recent visit by a group of American Osgood descendants:

“Andover Massachusetts became twinned with Andover [Hampshire] in 2000 but the link between the towns is more than 350 years old. In the 1630s, the Osgoods farmed Cottonworth Farm near Wherwell. During the first years of that decade the family faced problems of religious intolerance, increasing taxes, crop failure and finally, in 1638, a disastrous flood across their land. A relative, Christopher Osgood from Marlborough, had crossed the Atlantic in 1633 to begin a new life in the American colonies. In 1638, John Osgood and his family followed, eventually making his home in a settlement called Cochichowicke (Great Water), which was later renamed Andover, Mass. John eventually owned over 600 acres of land and became one of its most respected and influential citizens.”

The website post also described the Cottonworth property.

“The original Cottonworth Farmhouse is still standing (and occupied) at the turning to Wherwell from the Stockbridge Road at Cottonworth. Several of the American guests are members of the North Andover Historical Society and were delighted to have the opportunity to see the English home of one of the founders of their town. It gave them a better understanding of the area he left to establish himself in Andover MA.”

The back section of the house shows the one-story addition with the slate roof. Presumably the rest of the house originally had a thatch roof.

I look forward to continuing my research into this interesting family, and perhaps someday I can travel to Wherwell to see Cottonworth Farmhouse for myself!

Sources:

https://www.osgoodancestry.org/emigrants.html

https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1093381?section=official-list-entry

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/120824606#/?channel=RES_BUY

https://archive.org/details/genealogyofdesce00osgo/page/n23/mode/2up

https://www.wherwellhistory.com/topics/publications/osgood-family-descendants-american-andoverians-visit-andover-uk

Lawn Chair for the Ages: 52 Ancestors 2022 Prompt “Preservation”

Metal Chair Preserved Over Four Generations of Petersons

Paul Peterson: 1867-1941
Regina Syverson Peterson: 1872-1952

 

My brother now owns the farm our grandfather, Paul Peterson, originally owned in Brown County, Minnesota. Kent also owns a metal lawn chair that our grandparents used. It’s been repainted a dozen times or so, but each generation has preserved it and used it. Now our children will have a chance to lounge in the grass in the same chair as their ancestors Paul and Regina did.

I don’t know where the chair was purchased, or when. It is constructed of heavy metal with a sort of curving shape—rounded hollow metal tubes form the arms and legs of the chair, and the back is shaped like a clam shell, while the seat has a couple holes for drainage. It is a heavy piece of outdoor furniture—no matter how strong the gale, the chair stood, usually in the shade of a tree, perfect for relaxing on a summer day.

The first photo I have found of the chair was taken in the summer of 1941. My grandfather Paul is seated in the chair, which was painted in a dark color. He looks frail; he died at age 74 about six months later on December 31, 1941. To the left is his granddaughter Elaine Peterson, and to the right is Elaine’s little brother Roger. They were the children of Paul’s son Oscar, so were my first cousins. They lived just down the road about a quarter mile or so, and so were probably frequent visitors to their grandparents’ and uncle’s house. Little Roger was born January 29, 1939, so was only two and a half years old in the photo. Elaine was eight.

I love the details in this photo. Grandpa Paul has his cane and is wearing a hat and a long-sleeved shirt and long pants, but he is barefoot—his one concession to what was probably a hot summer day. The farm dog, a collie mix, lies near him in the shade. Behind him is the house I grew up in. I can see that my grandma Regina has trained a vining plant to climb a trellis at the side of the porch, which would provide shade from the afternoon sun. There is another wooden chair on the porch at the far right of the photo.

My cousin Elaine is wearing a skirt—no shorts for young ladies in that era—and a buttoned blouse and open-work shoes. Little Roger is wearing a romper-length overall with no shirt, and some sort of summery shoes. I love his cheery smile and his cute little jug ears.

The next photo was taken a few years later, after Paul’s death. Regina is enjoying a summer afternoon in the yard. Given the shorter length of her dress and her snow white hair and apparent age, I think this photo was taken in the late 1940s, just a few years before her death at age 80 in 1952. The chair still seems to bear its original dark paint. Regina is sitting facing the road, so the house is out of the frame to the right. Behind her is a small sapling that was a large tree by the time I was a child, and the chicken coop.

Once again, the details are a delight. I love Regina’s glasses. Rather than wire frames, it looks like she had nearly black Bakelite or plastic frames with wire earpieces. She is wearing what folks called a “housedress”—not dressy enough for church or special occasions, but fine for regular housekeeping and gardening work. The floral dress’ collar is trimmed with white “rickrack” edging. Her shoes are interesting—not lace-ups like I’d expected, but some sort of slip-on with a pattern on the top. It appears she is wearing hose despite the warm day, which was pretty typical of the era. Her hands, folded in her lap, show the effects of a lifetime of hard work in a cold climate—her fingers and knuckles are thick and swollen-looking. She’s smiling, but not showing her teeth, and given the sort of crumpled look of her face, I’m guessing that’s because she was missing a lot of teeth.

Like Paul, she has the company of a dog. This time, it’s a tiny terrier. My dad had a similar dog when I was young, a rat terrier named Trixie, but I believe this is a different dog with a darker coat.

The third photo of the lawn chair shows me probably shortly after my first birthday, so the summer of 1960. The chair has now been repainted to the white that I remember from my childhood. The chair is sitting near where it was in Grandma Regina’s photo, but at more of an angle so anyone sitting in it could look back at the house and porch, while also getting a view of the road. The chicken coop is again visible, but the sapling is now a sizable tree.

In the photo, I am not a sturdy walker yet, so I am using the chair to stay on my feet. I am grinning over my shoulder at either my mother or my Grandpa Macbeth, who were the photographers in the family. I’m wearing a little pastel sunsuit, and I was probably barefoot. My hair was still thin and wispy, and was fluttering in a slight breeze. Such a happy summer shot!

I’m sure that a more thorough review of family photos will turn up more shots of family members in the long-lived lawn chair. I also need to get a photo of the next generation—either my children or my brother’s son—making use of the chair on a balmy Minnesota day. I’ll have to post an update to this post as I acquire more photos.

Preservation is important not just for family photos and records, but also for the everyday items that families used over many years and many generations. They often provide a deeper understanding of our ancestors’ lives than records.

So long live the chair, and a huge thanks to my brother for preserving it as it approaches its centennial!

Exploring Family Search for Pioneer Ancestor: 52 Ancestors 2022 Prompt “Exploration”

Mormon Child Pioneer? Exploring Relationship to Possible Cousin Lorenzo Dow

Lorenzo Dow: 1845-1903 (Maternal Third Cousin 3x Removed)

 

I received a message from FamilySearch informing me that I had a “Pioneer Ancestor” who had “made the trek as a child”. I’d never gotten that type of message before. Since FamilySearch is affiliated with the LDS church, I realized that the “trek” referred to a Mormon wagon train, and the destination for this pioneer was Utah. Since I was unaware of having any Mormon ancestors, I decided to explore the site’s information on this young pioneer.

According to FamilySearch, my pioneer ancestor was a man named Lorenzo Dow, born in 1845 to parents Eli Lorenzo Dow and Lucy Perlina Ford. Young Lorenzo “departed on January 1, 1861” for Utah with “company unknown.” This information sounded a bit thin on facts and records. It likely meant that Lorenzo probably arrived in Utah at some point in 1861 when he was 15 years old, but that no further details were available. I doubted there were any primary sources to back up this assertion—that the information came from tales passed down by family members. I felt increasingly dubious about Lorenzo.

Also, the surname Dow was new to me. How exactly did FamilySearch believe we were related? The diagram below shows that according to FamilySearch’s wiki, our common ancestors are Samuel Daniels and Elizabeth Noble. My line comes down from their daughter Polly Daniels (my fourth great-grandmother), while Lorenzo supposedly descended from their daughter Abigail Daniels.

Abigail “Naby” Daniels, born in 1770, married Thomas Dow, born in 1769. They had several children; the oldest, David Dow, married Aphia Sambon or Sanborn, on March 11, 1813. While I was able to find their marriage record, I could not find any birth records for their two children, daughter Abigail and son Eli Lorenzo Dow. However, these children are named in at least two family histories that are available on the Ancestry site, so probably did exist.

According to one of these family histories, David Dow was a hard-drinking, abusive husband. He moved to Illinois where he worked as a smith, and finally persuaded Aphia, Eli and Abigail to join him. However, within two years, Aphia managed to acquire a divorce and returned with her children to an unspecified location in the East, possibly Vermont, New Hampshire or New York. That family history notes that the children disappear from genealogical records after that.

The FamilySearch tree records for Eli Lorenzo Dow were a bit mystifying. The only records attached to him were Mormon church records from the 1840s Mormon settlement in Nauvoo, Illinois. The first record, pictured below, was the Stake Ward Census taken in Nauvoo in 1842. Only Eli and wife Lucy appear; Lorenzo wasn’t born for another three years. Eli and Lucy had another child, a daughter born October 9, 1842 who died shortly after her first birthday on December 20, 1843, according to the Nauvoo Community Department Records.

Eli and Lucy on right, second entry from bottom

The remaining records attached to Eli are a mishmash. One is an 1850 census record for a Lorenzo Dow in Oneida, New York. He appears to be a single man lodging with another family, with no sign of wife Lucy or son Lorenzo. Why would he have left Nauvoo and returned to Oneida? Someone has also attached a census record from 1870 in St. Lawrence County New York, which from my Ancestry search obviously belonged to a totally different man named Lorenzo Dow who lived there his entire life.

Then there’s the death record from Santaquin, Utah, dated 1903. It is the same death date as his son, Lorenzo’s death. The same death record is attached erroneously to both men. I suspect they have no death record for Eli because he died back in Illinois shortly after Lorenzo’s birth. After all, Eli’s wife Lucy remarries. She appears on the 1850 census living in Pottawattamie County, Iowa as the wife of a John Miles or Mailes, another Mormon who was “endowed” at the Nauvoo Temple. How could she have remarried if her first husband was still alive, and still be a member in good standing of the Mormon Church? Divorce was discouraged.

So what records exist for my “pioneer”, Lorenzo Dow? He appears on the 1850 census under his stepfather’s name as Lorenzo Miles or Mailes. John Miles travelled to Utah with the “Fifth Ten of the First Fifty of the Fourth Hundred” handcart company around 1856, and apparently John died either enroute, or shortly after he arrived in Utah. By the time Lucy and her children arrive—including Lorenzo—in 1861, John Miles was already dead. I suspect Lorenzo accompanied his mother and half-siblings as a member of an unidentified handcart company.

Lorenzo appears to have married in 1875, choosing a much younger woman from Utah, Angeline Davis. Lorenzo would have been 30, and Angeline only 14! This is rather horrifying—in our era this was pedophilia.

By the 1880 census Lorenzo, then 34, and Angeline, supposedly 20, had three children and were farming in Provo. In an 1890 Provo City Directory he is listed as a farmer living in the 2^nd Ward on E Street between Sixth and Seventh Streets. See the Sanborn Fire Map from 1900 to see the approximate location, near a foundry and a public square.

Sanborn Fire Map of Provo Utah 1900, E St between 7th and 6th

By the 1900 census, Lorenzo and Angeline had nine children, with eight surviving. Their final child was born the following year. Sadly, Lorenzo died October 12, 1903 at the age of 58. His wife, Angeline, was about 40 and remarried the following year.

I am willing to concede that Lorenzo Dow, son of Eli Dow, was a Mormon pioneer, trekking to Utah with a hand cart group around 1861. However, I am not thoroughly persuaded that he is the grandson of David Dow, son of my fourth-great-grandaunt Abigail Daniels. The paper trail is just too thin. I have found no documents that prove the Eli Dow who lived in Nauvoo, Illinois as a member of the fledgling Mormon Church was the same Eli Dow who supposedly left Illinois with his divorced mother Aphia Dow in early childhood. Where did Aphia go? Where was Eli living between his birth and 1861? How did he become involved with the Mormons? There are so many unanswered questions to explore.

Lorenzo Dow

Lorenzo Dow was certainly a pioneer, exploring new lands and new ideas in Utah. However, his father’s past requires more genealogical exploration to verify that Lorenzo was truly related to me.  

 

Sources:

Nauvoo Stake, Nauvoo Stake Ward Census, 1842. LR 3102 27_f0004_00033

http://nauvoo.byu.edu/ViewPerson.aspx?ID=49336

Illinois, Hancock County, Nauvoo Community Project, 1839-1846 (BYU Center for Family History and Genealogy)," database, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QL3Z-PT1P : 23 February 2018), Eli Lorenzo Dow in entry for Abigail Dow, from 1839 to 1846; citing Residence, Nauvoo, Hancock, Illinois, United States, from 1839 to 1846, Citing BYU Center for Family History and Genealogy, Provo, Utah.

Doctor Helps Boxing Champ: 52 Ancestors 2022 Prompt “Help”

The Boxer and the Doctor: Fun Discovery

Dr. Albert H. Macbeth: 1862-1947

 

FamilySearch sent me a note today about a new record relating to one of my ancestors, so I logged in. As I skimmed my home page, I paused to examine some new photos of various ancestors that fellow researchers had posted. To my surprise, two were newspaper clippings about my maternal great-granduncle, Dr. A. H. Macbeth--clippings that I had never seen before.

The clippings included a photo of Dr. Macbeth with a middle-weight boxing champion by the name of Charles “Kid” McCoy. According to the accompanying article, Kid McCoy was visiting Dr. Macbeth’s hometown of Fort Wayne, Indiana and had looked up Dr. Macbeth, as they had become acquainted back in New York in 1898.

The article stated:

“Two old friends whom McCoy looked up on his arrival in Fort Wayne were George Biemer, who promoted a fight for McCoy…back in 1898 and Dr. A. H. Macbeth, who was medical attendant at the Rider Hotel in Syracuse, N. Y., in the same year, when McCoy was training there for his fight with Gus Ruhlin. When Dr. MacBeth and the old champion met here the doctor was wearing a pearl stickpin which McCoy had presented to him in appreciation for his services before the Ruhlin fight.”

I knew Albert Macbeth had received his medical training in New York, but I had not realized that he had practiced medicine there before moving to Fort Wayne. And I certainly had no idea that he had served as the medical attendant for a Syracuse hotel!

Kid McCoy

I had to look up the McCoy/Ruhlin fight. It was a twenty-round slugfest! Despite being outweighed by 30 pounds or so (McCoy was a middle-weight while Ruhlin, known as the Akron Giant, was a heavyweight), McCoy prevailed at last.

I’m curious about what sort of services Dr. Macbeth provided that made such a strong impression on Kid McCoy—so strong that he wanted to see Macbeth again twenty-five years later! Dr. Macbeth must have proved to be an exceptionally helpful doctor to have warranted both a pearl stickpin and a visit! Helping a famous sports figure apparently had its perks! Thank you to Julie Nissen for posting this find!

 

Sources:

FamilySearch.org.  https://www.familysearch.org/tree/person/memories/MZL2-BPT

Los Angeles Herald, 21 May 1898. McCoy Mounts Upward. https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1898/03/10/102087136.html

Double Trouble: 52 Ancestors 2022 Extra Post

Two Places at Once: Selmer Peterson is Counted Twice on 1910 Census

Selmer Arthur Peterson: 1892-1972 (2^nd Cousin 1x Removed)

 

Every once in a while, I find an ancestor who is counted twice on a census. Usually it occurs in early adulthood, where a young man or woman is still considered part of their parents’ household, but may be boarding most of the year at their workplace or with a relative. This is what occurred with Selmer Peterson on the 1910 census. The double count helped to confirm a familial relationship with another family in my tree.

Selmer Peterson was born on July 3, 1892 to parents Andrew and Rhoda Peterson (Rhoda was the daughter of my great-granduncle Gulbrand Olson, and is found on my tree as Ragnhilda Rhoda Gulbrandsdatter Hulsether). He grew up on their farm near the town of Wingville in Grant County, Wisconsin.

Selmer appears on the 1910 census at age 18 with his parents and older brother, Peter G. Peterson. The enumerator completed this census page on April 27, 1910. The form states that Selmer was not employed and was not attending school in 1910, and incorrectly lists his age as 17, a year younger than he actually was.

Selmer also appears on the 1910 census as part of his aunt’s household. Selmer’s mother Rhoda had a sister Oline who married another farmer in Grant County Wisconsin, a man named Thomas Williams. Oline and Thomas had several daughters close in age to Selmer. Apparently Thomas hired his wife’s nephew as a farm laborer, and the young man was living with them on their farm near Castle Rock, Wisconsin.

There are some curious errors on this census record as well as on the Wingville one. Selmer is now listed as being 19 years old—off by a year in the other direction. The form also states that he was out of work zero weeks of the year, but also attended school during the past year. His father claimed he was not employed and did not attend school. Of course the information on census forms is only as good as the heads of household provide, so the conflicts between the two entries probably reflect confusion on the parts of both Thomas Williams and Andrew Peterson.

This Castle Rock Township census form actually was completed on April 20, 1910,  one week before the one at Selmer’s parents’ home. Did Selmer return home in late April? Or did his parents just count him even though he was living about nine miles away? Either way, his presence in Oline’s household confirms that Oline and Rhoda were related and in close contact.

And Selmer Peterson has the distinction of being counted twice on the 1910 United States Census.

A Young Man’s Life Literally Explodes: 52 Ancestors 2022 Prompt “High and Low”

Explosion at Lead Mine Cuts Short a Promising Life

Peter G. Peterson: 1882-1917 (Second Cousin Once Removed)

 

While tracking down my great-granduncle Gulbrand Olsen’s descendants (Gulbrand was Ragnhild Olsdatter Ve Syverson’s brother), I ran into a problem. Gulbrand’s daughter, who was saddled with the complicated name of Ragnhilda Rodia Gulbrandsdatter Hulsether Peterson, but that I shall refer to as Rhoda Peterson, had five children with her husband Andrew Peterson. I found records for three of them quite easily, and determined that the fourth died early in infancy. But what happened to Rhoda and Andrew’s second son, Peter G. Peterson? He seemed to simply disappear from the records in early adulthood. In a last-ditch effort to find information, I turned to Newspapers.com. I was at first delighted and then stunned by my discoveries. The first article I found was a lovely description of Peter’s marriage, but the second one covered his horrific death just three years later. His life trajectory exploded, crashing from the high point of his marriage to the low of his death and funeral at 34.

How are we related?

Peter G. Peterson was born in June of 1882, likely in Dane County, Wisconsin. Records from that era in Wisconsin are patchy, and I have yet to find his birth record. His parents were Andrew and Rhoda Peterson, who were farming first in Dane County near Black Earth, and then in Grant County near Wingville. Peter appears on the 1900 census as an 18 year old working with his father on the farm. He also appears on the 1910 census, still living with his parents at age 28. After that, I found no further records.

It appears that shortly after the 1910 census, Peter moved to the nearby community of Montfort. He may have acquired a farm of his own there. He met a young lady from the nearby community of Iowa, Wisconsin, and they were married on April 14, 1914. The charming wedding write-up can be read below. It was the first evidence I had that Peter was alive post -1910. The wedding date enabled me to track down the Wisconsin Marriage Record, verifying that Peter, age 31, had indeed married 24-year-old Verna Rule.

Peter was described in glowing terms in the news article as a “young man of sterling qualities, an intelligent, industrious and successful farmer and is well liked by everybody.” His young wife, Verna Rule, was said to possess “a pleasant and winsome disposition.” The young couple took a wedding trip to eastern Wisconsin before settling on Peter’s farm. Such a promising beginning to their lives!

The next news article I found took my breath away. It described the decision of the state industrial commission to provide financial compensation to the survivors of an explosion at the Hump Development Company mine in Montfort. One of the recipients was Verna Peterson, the widow of Peter G. Peterson who was killed in the blast. The commission penalized the company for violating safety orders regarding the storage of blasting caps and dynamite, which led to the explosion.

I immediately started researching the explosion, finding numerous articles state-wide about the disaster. Some of the articles are reproduced in this post. According to the reports, Peter was among a group of lead miners who had come up to the surface for their dinner break at midnight on April 13, 1917. They gathered in a break room called the “dog house” near the entrance to the mine pit.

“Several of the men brought their lanterns with them and placed the lights on a small table in the corner of the shack. Nearby stood a box of dynamite caps. After eating, two of the miners engaged in a friendly tussle, and upset the table, throwing the lanterns into the box of caps. The impact resulted in an explosion which knocked the men off their feet, and threw the fragile timbers of the shanty in every direction.”

Miners eating lunch in break/changing room at lead mine in 1940s Wisconsin

While Peter was the only one killed, a Mexican immigrant was gravely injured, another man lost both his eyes, and all eight other miners were injured. One of the articles noted that each blasting cap had the power to “lift 800 pounds” and that 1000 blasting caps were stored in the shed. The industrial commission had noted that mining companies were forbidden from storing explosive materials in areas used by employees for rest breaks and clothing changes, but did so anyway despite the obvious risk to the miners’ safety.

I was stunned to read in another article that the company insurance carrier offered Verna only $5000 for the loss of her husband, while the family of the blinded man was offered $4500. It seems like Peter’s life ought to have had more value than a mere $500 more than the loss of one’s eyesight. I hope the settlement arranged by the industrial commission was more generous.

Strangely, the local paper did not carry an obituary for Peter, but only printed a brief note in the community social news column that stated,

“Peter G. Peterson, one of our industrious and respected young men, was killed in the blast at the O.P. David mine at Montfort Friday night. The funeral was held here Monday at 1 p.m. and was attended by a large number of sorrowing relatives and friends.”

I found this brief coverage almost insulting. I suspect the local paper was a little too closely tied to the mine’s owners, and chose to downplay its coverage of what must have been the biggest tragedy the town ever faced.

Peter’s widow, Verna, remarried 18 months later. She eventually had a child with her new husband; Verna and Peter had been childless.

While a search of historic newspapers provided me with the answers I needed about the fate of Peter G. Peterson, they highlighted how quickly life can change from the happy high points to a heartbreaking low point. Peter died just one day short of his third wedding anniversary.

Sources:

Montfort Mail, Montfort Wisconsin.  April 23, 1914 and April 19, 1917 issues. Accessed through Newspapers.com.

Wisconsin State Journal. Madison Wisconsin. April 14, 1917 and April 15, 1917 issues. Accessed through Newspapers.com.

Marshfield News, Marshfield, Wisconsin. August 2, 1917 issue. Accessed through Newspapers.com.