Schwab Family, Siselen, Switzerland

I gave my Schwab line only brief mention in my introductory post, so I want to get back to them.  I confess that I have not given this line as much attention because it was so easy to achieve my initial goal of tracing this line back to Europe.  After all, my great-grandfather, Alexander Schwab, and his siblings were all born in Siselen, Switzerland.  Alex was born May 31, 1871.  My great-great-grandfather, John Jacob Schwab was born in Siselen in 1843 and his wife, Maria Schwab (no relation) was born there in 1838.  He emigrated in 1880 and stayed for a while with one of his brothers, John Frederick, who had come to the US in the 1870s and was living in Pennsylvania. In 1882, my great- grandfather Alex immigrated with a group from Siselen going to Germania, PA.  He and his brother, Fred, took a ship from Le Havre, France.  In 1883, the rest of John Jacob’s family came, staying in Renova, PA.  In 1888, they moved to Cameron, PA.

One generation further gets much more difficult without polishing up my German and is complicated by the fact that looking for John (or Johann) Schwab in Siselen is a little like looking for John Smith in the US.  The family kept good records, so I’m reasonably confident in the information they had stating that my great-great-great grandparents were John Benedict Schwab, born 1808, died 1875 and Elizabeth (possibly maiden name Schwab, but family records aren’t clear on this) from Siselen.  He was Der Salzmann, the government’s salt distributor, for his district and he ran a tavern. The family records offer no further details of the family prior to John Benedict.

I often wonder what drove the family’s decision to leave Switzerland.  About the time my great-great grandfather John Jacob was born, Switzerland adopted a federal constitution and the country was well on its way to becoming the prosperous country it is today.  On the other hand, what I found at swissworld.org pinpoints the timeframe and suggests a possible reason:           

Population growth and famine were two important factors which forced hundreds of thousands of Swiss to emigrate during the 19th century. In particular there were waves of emigration in 1816-7, 1845-55 and 1880-85.

As a result of new farming methods, fields were fenced off as private plots, where previously everyone in the community had been able to graze their animals on common land.  The arrival of the railways in the middle of the century meant that grain could be imported cheaply. As a result, farmers switched to more lucrative and less labour-intensive areas, like dairy farming. Thousands of landless labourers were forced to look for employment elsewhere, and migrated to the towns and their factories - or emigrated, often to America.

I know I’ll need to buckle down and work on Swiss sources at some point, but, uh, not today.  I have a sudden urge for some chocolate.

My Life Mostly in Cameron County, Part 5

Parts              One       Two      Three      Four

Part Five:

After our house burned, we moved into the first house above the Block Row.  We didn’t live there very long, then moved into the McFadden place, owned at that time by Mrs. Charlie Clinton.  I went to work at the City Hotel as head dining room girl in 1913 and one year after I was there, Dad and the two boys were struck with lightening.  That’s the day I met Riley Murray.  Mr. Dolan had Riley drive us, Mr. and Mrs. Dolan and myself, to Cameron.  Mr. Dolan had just bought a new Ford and Riley took care of it and was teaching Mr. Dolan to drive.  What a scene—Dad unconscious, Nelson so badly burned he couldn’t be moved, Dr. Johnston and Dr. Falk getting Dad ready for the hospital and Charles paralyzed, couldn’t stand or walk, but otherwise okay.  Dad had such a wonderful garden; I stayed home to take care of it for a while and to help take care of Nelson, as we had to wrap him in sheets wrung out of lime water and linseed oil every half hour.  I had to get on the bed and straddle him, put my arm under his knees while he put his arm around my neck.  That’s the only way we could lift him, he was burned so bad. 

Nelson was completely undressed, his brown jacket was tacked, as though by an ax, about 12 feet up in the tree nearby.  His underwear looked as though someone had shot BBs through the entire suit.  Mrs. Page took off her apron and wrapped him up to carry him to the house.  Mr. Jenks carried Dad, who was more cut than burned.  He had a pocketknife in his right hand pocket, it opened up and really cut him bad.  Mrs. Jenks carried Charles up to Mother.  Dad was taken to Ridgway Hospital.  Uncle John got the 4:15 Flyer to stop right by the house to put Dad on.  He was in the hospital for 6 weeks and Nelson got out of bed the day Dad got home.  That was before the road as you know it was built.  When we lived there, the road went back of Sadie Bunces house at the foot of the hill to Sterling Run.

A few weeks after this happened, I had to go up Russel Hollow for the cows.  I got old John out, put a blanket on his back—we had no saddle.  Everything went okay until a clap of thunder.  Poor old John was so stiff he crow-hopped and over the gate he went.  When we landed on the other side, I thought I was cut in two.  I slid off and away he went for the barn.  I had to get the cow from then on as we knew he was afraid of thunder and lightening.  He was hitched to the plow with his mate, Tom, who was killed when Dad and the boys were struck.  The only mark on old Tom was all the hair was burned off the inside of his left ear.  But the lightening made a hole in the ground big enough, that all the neighbor men had to do was roll Tom into it and cover him up.  John was on the plowed furrow, but Tom was on firm ground.

The Anderson Brothers built the new road and changed the course of the river, too.  A few years later the wooden railroad bridge was rebuilt or replaced by the iron one that stands there today.  Also torn down was the big wooden bridge which spanned the river where the old road was.  I think the stone pillars still stand there today.  I remember the Anderson Brothers well as I worked for one of the nephews.  They lived in the Isaac Wykoff home.  The house at that time was owned by Nancy Moore.  We all called her Aunt Nancy.  Her granddaughter, Cora Emig, was a telephone operator at the railroad tower.  That was the same year Tommy Page died of diphtheria.  I went down to the Pages through knee deep snow, didn’t notice the quarantine sign on the front door, as I always went to the back door.  As I entered Roy said, “Oh, Frances, you can’t come in.  We have Tommy’s bed down in the dining room.  He’s got diphtheria.  Tommy heard me talking and said, “I want to see Frances.”  So I went in and he said, “Frances, will you milk the cows?  We haven’t had any milk as Mom won’t leave me and I want some milk.”  So away I went, armed with two big pails.  Roy couldn’t milk, but he had fed and watered both cows.  They hadn’t been milked for 36 hours so their bags were really caked and sore.  What a time I had.  The big white cow was a devil at any time; she kicked me over half a dozen times before I got her milked.  The younger cow went into the manger a couple of times.  I lost a lot of milk, but got one full pail and part of another one. 

The Page home as it now stands was built on the foundation of the old Rockwell home.  Mrs. Rockwell was Roy Page’s grandmother.  His mother was her only daughter.  Mrs. Rockwell was known as a famous herb doctor and midwife.  She was always busy during the early days of lumbering in and near Cameron.  I used to stay nights with her when I was about 10 or 12 as Roy and his family lived in Keating.  He was head electrician on the Pennsylvania Rail Road from Renova to Emporium.  Mrs. Rockwell was quite old when I stayed with her.  She died in 1912 from cancer.  When I took the milk to the house, I found out they were running short of food, so I went to Uncle John’s store, told them about the Pages.  Jake Lester took his big hand sled and they loaded up all kinds of food and took it down.  As long as the Pages were tagged up until Tommy died, which was in about 8 or 10 days, every woman in Cameron prepared food and it was taken to the Pages.  I went every day and milked those two cows until Mrs. Page was ready to take over.  Tommy was buried in their front yard between the graves of his grandmother and his great-grandmother.  No one else ever got the diphtheria, but a little over a year later their young girl. Lethia, died.  She mourned over the death of Tommy.  She was 4 years old and would stand by their front window and sing “Tell Tommy I’ll Soon Be There”.  Dr. Bush said she just mourned herself to death.  I worked at the Pages before she was born and afterwards or whenever Mary needed help.

When we lived at the mouth of Mooley Hollow, Jack Clark and Dad used to trap bears.  In the flats between Russell Hollow and Whitehead, they made the bear traps out of saplings like a log cabin about 8 feet square.  Grace Clark and I used to go to the trap line every day to see if we had caught anything, as Dad and Mr. Clark worked all day in the mines. but there was a such heavy snowstorm, the snow was so deep we missed one morning in 1910.  When we got there on the second day, boy was that bear mad, hungry and thirsty.  He had the place almost tore apart and we sure hit for home.  Dad got Uncle John’s horse, Prince, and the wagon and we went to get old bruin.  Dad shot him and what a job to get him in the wagon.  The smell of that bear—Prince went wild.  We had an awful time getting it in the wagon.  Jack and Dad could hardly lift it and I had to fight ole Prince.  They sold the bear as was to some man who wanted the hide for a rug.  None of the Clarks or us would eat bear meat.  They also hunted jackrabbits at the old Huff farm at the head of Hunts Run.  They sure was big and such long ears.

Part 6

Wordless Wednesday-Riley Murray

Husband of Frances Elizabeth Murray nee Schwab

My Life Mostly in Cameron County, Part I

Well, I’ve transcribed almost everything.  But I do need to do some editing.  I found multiple drafts so I need to organize much of the information before I can post it.  I’ll retain my grandparents natural syntax and grammar because it’s essential to their story-telling style.

But I do have some ready.  Here’s Part One of:

My Life Mostly in Cameron County

Frances Schwab Murray, 1966

I am of Swiss, English, Scotch and Welsh descent.  My father, Alex Schwab was a full blood Swiss.  Mother’s father was Scotch and English, her mother English and Welsh.  My father was born in Siselen, Berne, Switzerland.  My mother was born in Canoe Run, Cameron County in 1876.  Dad was born in 1871.  They were married in Cameron, PA August 7, 1893.  I was born August 13, 1896 at Rathbun, PA, the second oldest as my sister, Jennette was born August 4, 1894.  Like Abe Lincoln, I was born in a log cabin, as Dad was working in the woods.  Back in 1923 or 1924 part of that cabin was still standing.  When I was 6 months old, my parents moved back to Cameron where my sister Margaret was born in 1898 and 35 years later I attended her at the birth of her youngest daughter, Jean. 

One of my first remembrances is of the dolls Uncle John had bought for Jennie and I.  China dolls, one dressed in red and the other in blue satin.  We had them in the go-cart and Margaret, who was just beginning to walk, pulled the dolls out of the cart.  Both were broken beyond repair and Jennie and I were heartbroken. 

When I was about 4 years old, while feeding the chickens, I fell on a sharp can I was carrying the feed in, cut my chin open and had a bad cut above my eye.  I sure did some yelling.  Aunt Esther and Winne Shearer helped Mom to care for the cuts.  I’ve still got the scar to show this happened.  It happened in the house where Margaret was born and now that house has long been torn down. 

Dad and Mom moved to Weedville.  It was there Nelson was born in 1900.  I remember the house and time very well.  Mom had no doctor, but great-grandmother Costello was her midwife.  Dad worked in the coal mines, timbering the tunnels.  Nelson was about 6 months old when they moved to Canoe Run in a house across from the coke oven.  We didn’t live there very long and moved across the creek to the little bungalow where Alice was born. 

When we lived across from the ovens, Dad had a lumbering job and Mom boarded the men.  They slept in the house next door to our house.  The three McKay boys worked for Dad.  They used to catch rattlesnakes. And sell them to carnivals and shows.  They had boxes with glass tops so you could see them.  One day they had nine in a couple of the boxes.  One of the old teamsters was afraid one of us kids might break the glass and get bitten so while all the men was at work he took an ax and as they crawled out, he killed them one by one.  There was a terrible row when the McKays got back that night.  Later years one of the McKay brothers was bit by a rattler and died. 

It was in the bungalow at the foot of the hollow that Dad woke me up, sometime during the night and said I have to get up and dress, go for a neighbor, Mrs. Cordright, who was also a midwife. Because my mother was awful sick and needed help.  I was afraid to go as it was about ½ mile from us, past the cemetery where the small pox victims were buried, and trees had grown up on all sides of the road.  But barefooted and in the dark, away I ran.  About halfway there I fell over something that I thought was human.  This made me run all the faster until I came to Mrs. Cordright’s house, opening the door, I fell headfirst inside.  Mrs. Cordright came out in the hall in a nightgown and cap with lighted lamp.  I thought my lungs would burst.  I couldn’t speak for sometime.  She hurried and dressed and with lighted lantern we went down the road only to meet her red and white heifer coming up the road.  That’s what I had fallen over.  I can laugh about it now, but believe me, I sure was one scared kid. 

NEXT WEEK:  Part Two of My Life Mostly in Cameron County-Frances Schwab Murray, 1966 

Swiss Family Schwab

So when did the genealogical research seed get planted?  It goes back to 1975.  I was in Venice, Italy on a semester abroad program and took a weekend trip Switzerland.  As part of that trip I wanted to stop in Siselen, near Berne.  I am one-eighth Swiss and knew my great-great grandparents, John and Mary Schwab, had emigrated from Siselen with their family in the late 1800s.  I went, not knowing much more than a few names of dead relatives.  Siselen is a small town and it took no time to locate the main cemetery.  I was startled to walk among the headstones and see so many with the last name Schwab and with such old dates.  Even at the time, I wished I had done more research so perhaps I would have been able to identify the graves of relatives—and, who knows, even meet a distant cousin.

The following year I asked my grandmother to record our genealogy for me.  And later I received notebooks of historical remembrances she wrote down for the family and for the Cameron County Historical Society.  I don’t know if she ever gave her notes to the Historical Society, but I do know I was grateful I had made the request.  That was the year my grandmother died.  Little did I know it would take me almost 35 years to follow-through.

The first phase of this blog will be my grandparents’ remembrances of Cameron County, Pennsylvania, where they spent most of their lives.  Much of it will be information the Historical Society, long-time residents and anyone who enjoys first person history would appreciate.  I will be transcribing their comments, grammar and all, with editing done only when absolutely necessary. 

After that, I’ll begin telling the stories of my research on specific family lines.  My goal when I started a year ago was to trace each line back to Europe.  If I complete that task, who knows, maybe I’ll make a trip back to Siselen with a little more knowledge.