The beach is the perfect vacation spot for many of us. There are many factors at its core, having virtually nothing to do with additional recreational perks such as boardwalks, seafood, water slides, miniature-golf, or caramel popcorn. The true essence of “salt life” for beachcombers includes several sensory experiences—feeling the warmth of the sun, sand and soft breezes; smelling the rich salt air; hearing seagulls sing against the background of a lapping surf; and most importantly, the sight of cresting waves tumbling over themselves. And this doesn’t even account for the joy of actually getting in the water.
Doctors and psychologists have praised the recuperative powers of visiting the ocean. Some have even commented on the body’s return to water as being a key factor. With 60% of our body made up of H2O, the natural pull toward the beach could have ties to evolution.
As many are drawn to the sea, visitors to Mount Olivet are often drawn to one particular monument which stands out like a buoy in a surrounding “sea of gravestones.” It belongs to H. D. Ordeman and is adorned with nautical imagery, however you won’t find any sand, warm salt-air or waves. You will find an etching of a clipper ship on the front face, and topped with an anchor.
There exist many examples of grave monuments with anchors in the cemetery, but this one has a true connection to the ocean, where many others have the anchor as an iconic, religious symbol representing hope. This was a popular gravestone adornment utilized during the Victorian era. The Catholic Encyclopedia explains:
“The anchor, because of the great importance in navigation, was regarded in ancient times as a symbol of safety. The Christians therefore, in adopting the anchor as a symbol of hope in future existence, merely gave a new and higher significance to a familiar emblem. In the teachings of Christianity, the virtue of hope occupies a place of great importance; Christ is the unfailing hope of all who believe in Him. St. Peter, St. Paul, and several of the early Fathers speak in this sense, but the Epistle to the Hebrews for the first time connects the idea of hope with the symbol of the anchor. The writers says that we have "Hope" set before us "as an anchor of the soul, sure and firm" (Hebrews 6:19-20). The hope here spoken of is obviously not concerned with earthly, but with heavenly things, and the anchor as a Christian symbol, consequently, relates only to the hope of salvation. It ranks among the most ancient of Christian symbols. St. Ambrose evidently had this symbol in mind when he wrote (In. Ep. ad Hebrews 6): "As the anchor thrown from a ship prevents this from being borne about, but holds it securely, so faith, strengthened by hope," etc.”
In respect to a “nautical practicality” explanation, the anchor was a popular symbol because it was not only part of a ship, but because, just like Christians, sailors liked the connection this symbol had to stability and strength. Putting down an anchor also represented the safe end of a long journey—a very fitting punctuation mark for a past life memorialized at a cemetery.
Herman Dietrich Ordeman(n) has been described as “a highly respected, honorable and handsome gentleman, loved by everybody.” This compliment came from his son-in law and Frederick merchant John E. Price. More important to our story here is the fact that Ordeman was a sea captain who spent 39 years in his particular trade before retiring to Frederick County in the mid 1850’s. Richard "Skip" Ordeman, a direct descendant of Captain Ordeman, of Oakwood, Ohio was kind enough to pass on some biographical information. This was compiled by two of the mariner’s grandsons.
Capt. Herman Ordeman was a native of Bremen, Germany. Born November 30th, 1812, his life was greatly influenced by his old hometown. Bremen is the second most populated city in northern Germany and stands as a renowned commercial and industrial hub with a major port on the River Weser.
Bremen’s geographical location is 37 miles south of the mouth of the Weser on the North Sea. Just prior to Herman D. Ordeman’s birth, Napolean invaded Bremen in 1811 and integrated it as the capital of the Department of the Mouths of the Weser (within the new French State). In 1813, the French retreated and withdrew from Bremen. It soon became a sovereign republic.
The first German steamship was manufactured in 1817 in the Bremen shipyard of Johann Lange. Ten years later, Bremen mayor, Johann Smidt, purchased land from the Kingdom of Hanover, to establish the city of Bremerhaven (Port of Bremen) as an outpost of Bremen because the river Weser was silting up. The shipping industry continued to blossom.
Herman Dietrich Ordeman was the son of Heinrich Ordemann and Gesche Margrete Helmers. He attended primary schools in the village of Hunterbrueck (located northwest of Bremen) and a secondary school (likely in Bremen). Young Henry left school and went to nearby Berne, Germany (a few miles from Hunterbrueck) in order to escape compulsory military training. Then about 16 years old, he apprenticed on a sailing vessel and made his first trip. This was to the United States—Baltimore, Maryland. For the next five years, Ordeman climbed the ladder quickly, sailing as a seaman, third officer, second officer and first officer between practically every major port in Europe and North America.
In 1835, Herman Ordeman settled in Baltimore and began the process of becoming a naturalized US citizen. He would later accomplish this task in 1840, a week after his 28th birthday.
As first officer on the barque John A. Robb, Ordeman sailed from Baltimore to Valparaiso, Chile and on his return in 1836 received his masters papers “for all oceans, all tonnages”. Later he commanded the barkentine Alexandria, schooner Henry A. Barling, barque Texadora (later Buena Vista), barque Aleyandra (built in Chile) and the barque George A. Henry. The latter two ships were registered under the Chilean flag.
Herman D. Ordeman’s first love was the sea, but his second soon became a Parisian transplant named Catherine Schmaul (b. 1818 d. 1889). The couple would be wed in Baltimore on September 13th, 1838, and went on to become the parents of seven children (John Ordeman 1839-1904), Charles Henry Ordeman (1840-1862), Georgianna Ordeman (1848-1891), Daniel Thomas Ordeman Sr. (1848-1907), Mary Catherine Ordeman (1850-1932), Emma O. Ordeman (Hughes) (1855-1941), and Frederick A. Ordeman (1857-1924).
Capt. Ordeman soon owned two ships that sailed internationally. Advertisements in vintage papers show him sailing to Liverpool, England and visiting American ports including Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Charleston and New Orleans. It has been said that the majority of his latter career was spent traveling between Baltimore and the west coast of South America, rounding Cape Horn twice a year. He sailed into places such as Santa Cruz and Rio de Janiero, Argentina and Talcahuano, Chile. He carried passengers, mail and such things as guano for fertilizer.
Dropping Anchor in Frederick
In 1856, the good captain decided to move inland from his home in Baltimore. Capt. Ordeman moved to the vicinity of Park Mills (namesake of Park Mills Road) in the Urbana District of southeastern Frederick County. He purchased a farm containing 335 acres. This property wasn’t far from water, as it was located on the south side of Bennett’s Creek. He also owned a parcel on the north side of the creek of 30 acres on which stood a grist mill. A pot still distillery was added to the mill site in 1858, and for many years operated at a capacity of 175 gallons per day. The whiskey was said to have been carted to Frederick Junction on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad and shipped to Baltimore for storage in bonded warehouse.
Capt. Ordeman would add to his real estate holdings a few years later in 1858 by purchasing an adjoining parcel that boasted a direct connection to his hometown of Bremen. This was the John Frederick Amelung property named Montevino, consisting of 1200 acres on the north side of Bennett’s Creek. The 100-room Georgian manor house was constructed by Amelung around 1784-85 as part of his New Bremen Glassworks operation.
John Frederick Amelung was born and raised in Bremen, Germany. He had arrived in Baltimore in 1784, with 68 workers and enough glassmaking equipment to establish a factory. An agent and 14 additional workers arrived later in the year, and the group quickly established their New Bremen settlement and glass factory upon Bennett’s Creek. An early Colonial era pioneer in this endeavor, John Amelung is credited with producing “some of the most beautiful glass ever made in America.” He had agents in Baltimore and New York, but his fortunes came to a halt less than a decade later as Amelung declared bankruptcy. Fine examples of New Bremen glass work can be seen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City; the Corning Museum of Glass in Corning, New York; and Winterthur Museum in Winterthur, Delaware.
Herman D. Ordeman preferred to keep residence on his original purchased parcel, as he came into Amelung’s Motevino at a time when it was in a bad state of repair. He leased out farm shares from 1860 until the early 90's with several tenant families living in the old building. About 1893 the farm was taken over by the captain’s youngest son, Frederick A. Ordeman, and farmed by him until his death in 1924."
From the time he was made a shipmaster, he shared ownership in the vessels he commanded. On his retirement from shipping he owned the Aleyandria and seventy percent of the George and Henry. He disposed of all interests except forty percent of the Aleyandria which he held until 1860.
Descendant Skip Ordeman's home-based shrine to ancestor Capt. H. D. Ordeman featuring a model of the Aleyandra (one of captain's last ships) and a wrought-iron nameplate that once adorned a fence in the backyard of a (Ordeman) family property outside of Frederick City. He surmises this could be a relic from an earlier ornamental fence that once surrounded the Ordeman grave lot (Area A/Lot 120) in Mount Olivet
Capt. Ordeman was now content to live the life of a country gentleman and farmer. He might have left the ocean, but the ocean had never left him. Family, friends and neighbors would be thoroughly entertained by the captain’s telling of seafaring tales and adventures. One such was William Jarboe Grove (1854-1937), author of The History of Carrollton Manor. In this book, written in 1925, Grove recounts:
"As a boy it was very interesting for me to hear him tell my father his experiences on the ocean. He was a jovial character and a splendid talker. His son Fred and grandchildren live in Frederick. Mr. Ordeman was a Southern sympathizer and his sons, John and Charles, served in the Confederate army.”
Herman D. Ordeman was active in local affairs and politics, running for Frederick County commissioner in 1873. He was a member of the Frederick Odd Fellows Chapter as well. In early 1883, Capt. Ordeman began feeling the effects of a stomach tumor. It was cancer. He battled this affliction for 18 months before succumbing on September 12th, 1884.
He was laid to rest in Mount Olivet Cemetery the next day, his funeral well-attended by family and the many friends and acquaintances, quickly made, in his new home of Frederick. The old captain was placed next to the grave of his brother, John Frederick Ordeman (1816-1858), who had passed 26 years earlier. He, too, was a man of the sea, making regular trips from Germany to Baltimore from the 1830’s through the 1850’s. I guess you could say, Mount Olivet serves as the final port of call for these brothers from Bremen.
“It is a most instructive and refreshing exercise to sit down and gather around us all the biography of a period–all the journals–all the contemporaneous spiritual history of it, to bring all this together, review it carefully, analyze, sift and digest it, till the heart begins to burn within us. Shall we be unmindful of those who have gone before us? Shall we forget them or their deeds? No brethren, the good and the great can never be held too much in remembrance. Let us therefore, remember those who through faith and patience have gone before us.”
These were the words coming from the pulpit of Frederick’s German Reformed Church, Trinity Chapel, on the occasion of the congregation’s centennial festivities which took place on May 21st (Whit-Monday), 1847. They were delivered as part of the opening of Rev. Daniel Zacharias’ sermon.
Rev. Daniel Zacharias, D. D. (Doctor of Divinity) exhibited a life dedicated to “faith and patience.” He came to Frederick in the “prime of early manhood.” He was said to have exhibited “energy and great endurance.” Before his entrance, Frederick’s Evangelical Reformed Church had been experiencing turmoil with previous pastors. T.J.C. Williams’ “History of Frederick County” (1910) includes a passage from a letter explaining the early 1830’s period in which Rev. Zacharias was called to town:
“There had been an unhealthy commotion and much dissatisfaction in the church during the past two pastorates. This was especially so during the administration of the Rev. Reighly—1833-1835. His ministry was forced to a conclusion as the direct result of his misdeeds. This served in a great measure to wean his friends from him, so that now the congregation with great unanimity turned a second time to Rev, Daniel Zacharias, of Harrisburg, Pa., who was elected pastor by a large majority, his first acceptance being impossible on account of the difficulties caused by Reighly.”
Daniel Zacharias was a native of nearby Washington County, MD. Born in the vicinity of Clear Spring on January 14, 1805, he was the son of John George (Christopher) Zacharias and Catherine Kirschner. His grandfather was a German immigrant from North Rhine-Westphalia, who came to the US around 1753 and first settled near Berks County, PA. He would serve in the American Revolution.
Young Daniel received a classical education at the Hagerstown Academy, followed by attending Jefferson College in Canonsburg, PA. He remained here through the end of his junior year, at which time he transferred to the Theological Seminary at Carlisle (PA). Zacharias received his academic degree in divinity (Doctor of Divinity), was licensed and ordained in 1828 within the German Reformed Church, an early Protestant denomination brought to this country by German and Swiss immigrants in the 18th century. He was given a charge in York County. Two years later, he was called to congregations in Harrisburg and Schupps, where he would remain here for nearly five years, at which time he moved to Frederick.
Daniel Zacharias’ entrance to Frederick was documented by noted diarist Jacob Engelbrecht (1797-1878) in a post dated April 5, 1835:
“The Reverend Zacharias, late of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, arrived here one day last week (with his family) to take charge of the German Reformed Congregation of this city & neighborhood. Yesterday he preached his first sermon. Vice, Reverend Charles Reighley going to Michigan.”
Engelbrecht traced the earliest work-related moves of the new minister and in town. Zacharias conducted his first funeral service on April 5, 1835 when he administered the burial of 40-year-old William Quynn in the Mantz Graveyard on W. 4th Street Earlier that day, the reverend preached his inaugural sermon at Evangelical Reformed on April 5th. This took place in the “old church,” known today as Trinity Chapel on the south side of W. Church St. Twelve days later, Dr. Zacharias performed his first marriage in town. This matrimonial union joined George W. Jacobs and Ann Margaret Hamilton. Daniel Zacharias soon learned that he had a charge that included other congregations located outside of the city of Frederick— Carrollton Manor, Mt. Zion and Bethel.
Rev. Zacharias had already experienced personal heartbreak before coming to Frederick. His first wife, Jane Hays, had died in late 1831. The couple wed in Carlisle in June 1829 and had only been married for roughly two-and-a-half years before her untimely passing at age 22. He later began courting Catherine Zinn Forney of Harrisburg. They married in March, 1834. When the couple arrived in Frederick in spring 1835, Catherine was two months pregnant.
Past difficulties at Evangelical Reformed soon dissipated and Rev. Zacharias received credit for unifying the congregation, something that would last for 38 years, the duration of Zacharias’ tenure at the church, among the longest in the history of Evangelical Reformed Church of Frederick.
Under Rev. Zacharias, a new church structure would be built across the street from Trinity Chapel. This building, erected in 1848, cost $24,000. This building still stands today as the Evangelical Reformed Church, United Church of Christ, located at 15 W. Church Street. A German (language) congregation retained the old church for their sole purposes.
An additional, multi-purpose building was constructed a block to the east of Trinity Chapel at the corner of N. Market and E. Church streets. This structure would provide Sunday school amenities and a social hall for the growing congregation. Commercial storefronts on the ground level of Market Street were rented out in order to collect funds to pay for the whole of the building. This was also built under Rev. Zacharias leadership. A new burying ground was also opened on the corner of N. Bentz and W. Second streets. At one time this cemetery had stone walls built around it (1857).
In fall of 1860, the Consistory of the church ordered the steeple on the old church to be repaired and painted. The job fell to church elder Abraham Kemp. Upon finishing the job to thorough expectations, he waved his fee of $742.42 and instead offered his work as a donation to the church. By way of showing appreciation, the Consistory gave their building complex, a block away, the moniker of Kemp Hall.
Then came the American Civil War, the most trying time of Rev. Zacharias’ professional career here in Maryland. He had to work extra hard to calm the fears of parishioners. One of the first incidents of war involved the church, and specifically, the newly-named Kemp Hall. This structure served in the capacity as Maryland’s capitol during the spring and summer of 1861, as the state came perilously close to leaving the Union. Because Virginia had seceded in April of 1861, President Lincoln could not have Maryland fall to the Confederacy as this would have surrounded the U.S. capital of Washington, D.C.
Two weeks after the Confederate capture of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor (South Carolina), Maryland’s governor, Thomas H. Hicks, called the General Assembly into special session. The state capital, Annapolis, was southern leaning and seething with resentment over the recent Federal occupation of that city. The decision came for the body to meet here in Frederick, a strongly Unionist city, to debate secession.
Both the Senate and the House of Delegates began the session on April 26th, 1861, in the former Frederick County Courthouse building located a block west of the church. The next day, the senators and delegates moved down the street to Kemp Hall, as this structure boasted a better meeting space.
As early as June 20th, under Lincoln’s suspension of the writ of habeas corpus, Federal troops began arresting suspected pro-secession legislators, starting with Delegate Ross Winans of Baltimore, who was stopped on his way home from the session here. He, like several other lawmakers, was confined under Lincoln’s orders. Some would be incarcerated at Baltimore’s Fort McHenry, while others found themselves destined or Fort Warren in Boston Harbor.
The legislature continued to meet here at Kemp Hall throughout the summer of 1861. Finally, lacking a quorum—primarily because of the arrest of so many secession-leaning senators and delegates—it adjourned in September without ever considering a secession bill.
Rev. Zacharias was likely relieved and happy with this outcome. He would be identified as being an ardent Unionist in our “border county within a border state.” Conventional thinking would make one think that the German Reformed congregation would be Union leaning in nature, but there were Southern leaning parishioners here as well. Rev. Zacharias had to unite his flock in faith, regardless of political sides favored.
However, Zacharias is best known for a Civil War period incident which would bear witness to his legacy as a Union man “through and through.” Gen. Thomas Jonathan “Stonewall” Jackson, Robert E. Lee's trusted general, came to Frederick in September 1862 with the Army of Northern Virginia. They had recently been victors at the Second Battle of Bull Run in Manassas, (VA). Gen. Jackson, along with Gen. Lee and other leading officers camped south of town at the Best Farm.
In his autobiography entitled "I Rode With Stonewall," Jackson’s aide-de-camp, Henry Kyd Douglas, delivers an amazing story involving our subject, Rev. Zacharias. Henry Kyd Douglas grew up at his parent’s plantation of Ferry Hill, overlooking the Potomac and Shepherdstown (WV) from the east on the Maryland side of the river. His father, Rev. Robert Douglas, was a retired minister in the German Reformed Church and he knew Rev. Zacharias personally.
According to the story, Gen. Jackson asked Douglas and another aide to go to church with him in Frederick. Gen. Jackson had recently been thrown from a horse and was slightly injured, so he rode into Frederick in an army ambulance wagon while his aides rode their horses. Because Presbyterian services were not being held that Sunday night, Gen. Jackson elected to go to the Reformed Church on West Church Street.
“The minister, Dr. Zacharias, a man with deep-set eyes and a musical voice, was said to be good preacher, but as usual, the General went to sleep at the beginning of the sermon," Mr. Douglas wrote, “and a very sound slumber it was.”
"His cap, which he held in his hand on his lap, dropped to the floor, and his head dropped upon his breast, the prayer of the congregation did not awaken him, and only the voice of the choir and the deep tones of the organ broke his sleep."
“The Rev. Zacharias, whose son was serving as a Confederate surgeon, prayed for President Lincoln during the service and was greatly admired in Frederick for doing so in front of Gen. Jackson.”
Mr. Douglas wrote that "The general didn't hear it; but if he had I've no doubt he would have joined in it heartily."
Dr. Zacharias was one of the most revered ministers in his faith denomination, regularly being called for his leadership over synod committees and ecclesiastical assemblies. Here in Frederick, he gave the address at the laying of the cornerstone for the Female Seminary (later to become the Frederick Woman’s College) and was for many years the President of the Board of Visitors for the Frederick Academy.
Rev. Dr. Zacharias’ funeral would take place at Mount Olivet Cemetery on April 2nd, 1873. A resolution had been passed two nights prior as the Frederick Boards of Alderman and Common Council requested citizens to close their places of business during the four-hour event. Twenty ministers from the German Reformed Church, including his successor Rev. Edmund R. Eschbach, would be in attendance.
Dr. Zacharias body was placed on display for a public viewing in his home church that morning in a service that lasted from 9am until 1pm. Jacob Engelbrecht estimated that “one half of the town & also people from the country went to see him.“ The funeral sermon would be given by Rev. Thomas G. Apple, Professor of the Theological Seminary at Lancaster (PA) and president of Franklin & Marshall College. Rev. Apple’s nephew, Joseph H. Apple, would have another major impact on Frederick into the near future, in his presidency (1897-1934) of the Woman's College of Frederick, operated by the Potomac Synod of the Reformed Church in the United States. This entity would evolve into Hood College.
Nine ministers from other Protestant churches were also in attendance at his funeral. It has been said that all the bells in town, Protestant and Roman Catholic, were rung that day during the time of Rev. Zacharias’ interment. An immense concourse of Frederick’s citizenry, and then some, made a procession to the cemetery.
T.J.C. Williams would sum up his life in the following manner:
“Eminently a man of peace, Dr. Zacharias would rather endure a wrong than contend for his convictions of right. Here in Frederick his memory will ever be green, for all about us are the monuments of his faithfulness, and his works to follow him.”
At the time of Rev. Zacharias’ death, the Consistory purchased a desirable lot in Mount Olivet, and gave this to his family. It is located near the southern perimeter in Area C/Lot 137. In 1875, the sum of $1,034.15 was collected by a committee solely created for the purpose of raising an appropriate memorial monument at his grave “a massive shaft of marble, suitably inscribed.” The committee in their concluding remarks state: “The monument, we think, is in keeping with the character and tastes of him whose memory it is designed to perpetuate.”
So beloved was Rev. Zacharias that he was memorialized once again with a tablet placed in the main vestibule of Frederick's German Reformed Church. This occurred in late February, 1899—nearly 26 years after his passing in 1873. It's fair to say that he is the true cornerstone of this structure, and the congregation he helped forge throughout his time in Frederick. One-hundred and eighteen years later, the plaque remains on display at the church, now known as the United Church of Christ.
Dr. Zacharias’s monument in Mount Olivet stands tall, surrounded by his familial flock including his wife Catherine (1815-1895) and son Granville (1835-1877), a sheep herder who perished from an accidental shooting in Pueblo, Colorado. Another son George Merle (1848-1910) would follow in his father’s footsteps and become a clergyman. Zacharias’ other children would rest in the shadow of the monument and include Confederate veteran John Forney Zacharias (1837-1904), Jane Zacharias (1843-1906), Lawrence Brengle Zacharias (1844-1923), Merle Herbine Zacharias (1846-1847), Edwin Daniel Zacharias (1851-1915) and William Zacharias (1855-1927).
When I was a kid, there were often commercials on television and radio that introduced me to the mystical destination of Pueblo, Colorado. These were usually seen or heard on weekday afternoons and Saturday mornings. Viewers, like me, were introduced to the wonderful world of free, printed advice and information from our U.S. Government via these public service announcements. It was just so easy, all you had to do was call the given telephone number, or write a letter to the address shown on the screen—Consumer Information Catalog, Pueblo, Colorado 81009. Free information, what a great thing to have!
This famous Pueblo location is actually one of two distribution facilities operated by the U.S. Government Printing Office’s Agency Distribution Services. Its mission is to store and ship out government publications on behalf of Federal agencies to the public. The other distribution site is in Laurel, Maryland, but this destination doesn’t intrigue me in the least. Perhaps Colorado residents had the same feeling about Laurel, similar to what the rest of us felt toward Pueblo?
This was years before any of us had heard the word internet. Nowadays, free information and advice is readily available at your fingertips. As for the U.S. Government Printing Office’s Agency Distribution Services, the Consumer Information Center continues to pump out the goods. In a visit to the GPO’s website (https://pueblo.gpo.gov/Publications/PuebloPubs.php), I learned that the number of distributed material bundles recently reached an incredible milestone—one billion and one thousand million.
I haven’t thought about Pueblo, Colorado until recently seeking “information and advice” on an individual buried here at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Frederick, Maryland. This was something distinctly connected to Pueblo, so I had no reason to go to nearby Laurel instead.
My research focused on a 42-year-old former native and resident of Frederick named Granville Zacharias. His marble grave monument is not ornate, or outstanding in any way. As a matter of fact, his rectangular, upright stone is pretty uniform, standing in a row of others just the same. This group consists of siblings of the deceased, all dying in various stages in life. They all stand in the shadow of a large 13-foot monument dedicated to the memory of their parents, Daniel and Catherine Zacharias.
Granville’s father was the Rev. Dr. Daniel Zacharias, a legend in church annals, and an individual who led Frederick’s Evangelical German Reformed Church for 38 years (1835 and 1873). I soon discovered an amazing irony between father and son as both men were charged with maintaining “flocks of sheep”—both figuratively and literally. Both men would be involved in this endeavor up until the times of their death.
I will share more about Dr. Zacharias in next week’s blog entry, but for now, I’d like to share what little I know about Granville Zacharias. For this I need to take you to Pueblo, Colorado and the year 1877. But first, a scant bit of backstory.
Granville Zacharias was born on November 16, 1835. His father had just come to Frederick, a busy crossroads town on the National Road that had just gotten busier thanks to the arrival of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad in town a few years prior. Frederick was not only a center for talented craftsmen and light industry, it was a hub oasis surrounded my rich farmland in every direction.
Being the son of a clergyman had its advantages as well as disadvantages surely. I'm assuming the family lived on Church Street in close proximity to the church, if not next to it. Granville was the second oldest of eight children, the oldest male. He would receive his early education in the church, as well as the Frederick Academy located a block from his W. Patrick Street home.
Just days into the new year of 1877, and Granville Zacharias found himself 1,650 miles from home. Colorado had just been admitted as a state five months before. The minister’s son was working diligently to erase debts that he had wrung up earlier in California, where he had formerly lived for many years. He had recently purchased sheep from a Dr. Smallwood and Mr. T.T. Hershberger. He was giving the gentlemen chattel mortgages in payment. He had been raised in a large family, one made even larger based on his father’s profession. Now, he was alone with no one at all. He never had want of anything in younger days, but now found that he had little more than the clothes on his back and his health. Soon, he would lose the latter in the blink of an eye. A horrible accident was to blame, one that was nobody’s fault. Granville Zacharias was just attempting to be a good shepherd, something his father ingrained in his mind, body and soul over his lifetime.
January 11, 1877 would be his last. An early “publication” from Pueblo, Colorado gave me the information and advice that I was seeking. The following account was found in the town’s Daily Chieftain newspaper, dated January 14th, 1877 under the headline “Death of Granville Zacharias”:
Mr. Granville Zacharias died in this city on Thursday morning from a wound in his leg, caused by the accidental discharge of his own pistol. The deceased kept a flock of sheep, and having lost some of them, was engaged in hunting the stray animals on the prairie this side of the Chico. When in a lonesome place several miles from any settlement, a rabbit jumped up in front of him and he drew his pistol to shoot it. The animal disappeared from view and Mr. Zacharias attempted to return the weapon – a large dragoon pistol, to the scabbard, neglecting to let down the hammer. The pistol was discharged, the ball entering the rear of the leg above the knee and ranging downward, how far is not known.
The shooting happened in the morning and the deceased managed to walk about half a mile from the scene of the accident towards his camp. He was able to go no further and towards evening was discovered by one of his own herders who was also in search of sheep. Mr. Zacharias had had some high words with this man a few days before about some sheep that had been smothered, and the herder feared that the wounded man might die before any third party could arrive, and he (the herder) would be accused of having killed him.
The herder gave Mr. Zacharias his blankets and coat and made him as comfortable as possible, while the former ran with all possible speed to the camp, secured a team and brought the unfortunate man in. The sufferer was brought to town so that he might have good surgical attendance. Mortification soon set in and in a few days death supervened. His physician would have amputated the wounded limb but the condition of the patient was such that certain death would have resulted.
In August 1871, Granville’s mother had bought lot 187 within the cemetery's Area C. This is where the gravestone of Granville Zacharias resides today. But does Granville, himself, lie below the surface? He’s listed in our records as being here, but I can’t find definitive proof that he does, but surely could. I have since located information online saying that the ill-fated sheep herder could be buried in what is known as Pioneer Cemetery on the north edge of Pueblo, Colorado. This was Pueblo’s first, permanent burying ground established in 1870 when a Masonic Lodge purchased 80 acres from the US Government. No stone exists at this place, but apparently this is where Granville’s lifeless body was laid to rest on that lonely day in January, 1877.
Perhaps I should contact the Consumer Information Center in Pueblo for assistance? In closing, I guess it could be safe to venture that Granville, himself, could be the rogue sheep that got away from Frederick’s beloved Zacharias flock. We may never know the truth, but at least his life and memory continued to be cherished by family members and friends within the confines of Frederick’s “Cemetery Beautiful.”
Header image for story: Vincent Van Gogh's Shepherd with a Flock (1884)
“White-lightning” did him in, without ingesting a drop. You could say he died from alcohol, but it’s not what you think.Blame it all on a remote mountain clearing known as Blue Blazes.
Clyde Lester Hauver, Sr. was a pretty good local baseball pitcher. His gravesite is in clear view of Nymeo Park at Harry Grove Stadium. As a major promoter of the sport, I’d bet money that our Frederick Keys stadium namesake, James H. Grove, Sr., was well aware of the young phenom who once starred on diamonds around the county and state.
Clyde Hauver’s name appeared in the Frederick Post newspaper on July 24th, 1929 when a local baseball aficionado was interviewed in respect to one of Hauver’s former fiercest rivals—Ray Gardner. A Frederick native, Raymond Vincent Gardner would soon be back in his hometown for a Major League exhibition game to be played at McCurdy Field. Just one decade earlier, both Hauver and Gardner squared off at this field in the Frederick City Twilight League, so named because games, in an era before stadium lights, would be played late in the day until sunset. This was a rare off-year for Frederick, not playing in the Blue Ridge League, which had added the Frederick Hustlers to their ranks in 1915.
Gardner played for the Hustlers and was recently elevated to the “Big Leagues,” playing shortstop for the Cleveland Indians. Earlier in 1929, the Cleveland Indians purchased the Hustlers and the new “farm” team changed its name to the Warriors to connect more with its parent team. Ray Gardner had been coveted by the organization a few years earlier as a top prospect, and the Indians were hoping to do the same with other local players.
The gentleman interviewed in the Frederick Post article of July 24th (about Gardner) was not named, but I feel that he well could have been “Harry” Grove himself, the greatest early benefactor and promoter of professional baseball in Frederick. The purpose of the article was to reminisce about Gardner’s playing days in Frederick in an effort to generate additional interest in the upcoming exhibition game slated for Monday, July 29th between the Cleveland Indians and minor-league Warriors. The interviewee waxed of Gardner:
“He was only a kid but he could hit, run bases, and sure scoop up everything around short. He was all over the infield and could go from second to third either as a baserunner or as a fielder so fast that it would make you dizzy to watch him. And the only reason he didn’t lead the league in hitting was because for some reason or another, he couldn’t hit Clyde Hauver. That was the real reason why his team (the Catholics) couldn’t lick Company L. They had no trouble with other teams. They simply cleaned everything up. Bet they could have licked the Blue Ridge League if there had been a Blue Ridge then but there wasn’t any Blue Ridge back in the summer of 1919. They didn’t play that year. It was in that league that Ray Gardner got his start. And we’ll all be on hand next Monday afternoon to see Ray play in a big league uniform.”
Meanwhile, in the woods of Catoctin Mountain outside Thurmont, Clyde L. Hauver would have his life snuffed out by a .30 caliber bullet. He was shot in the back of the head and died less than two hours later. In doing so, he became the first deputy sheriff in Frederick County history to be killed “in the line of duty.”
Ironically this whole affair occurred not far from Clyde L. Hauver’s birthplace near Foxville. This locale was located in the aptly named Hauvers District, an area of northwest Frederick County originally settled by Clyde’s GGG Grandfather George Hauver (1730-1800), and wife Anna Susannah Hermann (1732-1800). George was a German immigrant who came by way of York, Pennsylvania in the mid 1700’s. His wife’s family were also among the first to settle in the greater Foxville area, roughly four miles west of today’s Thurmont , originally named Mechanicstown.
Mechanicstown, itself, didn’t even come about until about 1803, a few years after the deaths of George and Anna Susannah Hauver in 1800. The area where they, and son Peter (Clyde’s GG Grandfather), settled was originally known as Hermann’s Gap, and a nearby cascading waterfall in the vicinity took the name of Hermanns’ Falls. Later, Hermann was Anglicized to Harman, and the picturesque falls took the name of later landowners named McAfee who married into the Hermann/Harman family in the mid 1800’s. To complicate things more, somehow this water form would be renamed Cunningham Falls in the early 20th century, but no one has been able to determine (with certainty) why, and, more so, who the namesake was.
Anyway, it can be said that Clyde L. Hauver was murdered on his own home turf—although his assailants thought more of him as the unwelcome intruder on that eerie day of Wednesday, July 31st, 1929.
Insert from 1873 Titus Atlas of Hauvers District #10 (1873). Note the Hauver properties in the vicinity of today's Cunningham Falls State Park, just SW of Foxville. Also note the location of D. McAfee & Bro. as labeled on this map. This was the approximate site of the future Blue Blazes Still, today just a short distance west of the Catoctin Mountain Park Visitor Center adjacent the entrance of Park Central Road
Clyde Lester Hauver
Clyde Lester Hauver was born June 21, 1894 in Foxville. His father Chester was a farmer, as was his father before him, Melancthon Hauver. Both relatives married women who grew up “on the mountain,” like themselves. Young Clyde would spend his childhood here as well. He attended the local schools and graduated from Thurmont High. He was a natural athlete, and took a special liking to baseball, but also played basketball. His home life included a loving family that included mother Effie (Eccard) and two siblings, younger sisters Mazie and Ruth.
Along the way, Clyde’s father switched professions to become a Frederick County Sheriff’s Deputy. He later would serve as a county constable. This likely prompted a move to Frederick City. The family could be found residing at 408 South Street in the 1910 US census. Clyde, 16 years of age, is listed as an employee of a brush factory—the Ox Fibre Brush Company located on E. Church Street extended.
Clyde next tried his hand at plumbing. In June, 1914, he purchased a plumbing business from Thomas F. Allen who had relocated to Oklahoma. His shop was located at 246 W. Patrick St. His father made a business acquisition a short distance away just five months later. Chester Hauver purchased an interest in a local Frederick grocery store on W. Patrick Street in 1914. Known as Phleeger & Hauver, this entity partnered Mr. Hauver with John Edwin Phleeger, former Judge of the Orphans Court of Frederick County. Young Clyde promptly accepted a clerkship with the firm. Being the boss’ son also allowed Clyde the scheduling flexibility to continue playing baseball beyond his school days. He regularly participated in amateur leagues.
Within two years, Clyde married Miss Margaret Eleanor Whisner of Frederick. Rev. W. J. Kane officiated the May 15th, 1916 ceremony at St. John’s Rectory. A child Eleanor was born in February, 1917, and a year and a half later, the family welcomed a second daughter named Margaret after her mother.
Although Hauver did not serve overseas in World War I, he did serve in the Maryland State Guard, Company L. He attained the rank of 1st Lieutenant during 1918-1919. As if he wasn’t already busy enough, he continued to play amateur baseball on various county teams.
In 1920, the family lived at 232 W. Patrick Street in a rowhouse next to Clyde’s parents. Clyde’s occupation listed in the January census of that year stated that he was an antique furniture collector. Heartbreak hit the family just before Christmas as Clyde’s father was killed in an automobile crash near Hansonville while en-route to a country butchering. He was 52. Clyde now gave extra assistance to his mother. He would experience the birth of another son a year later (October, 1921)—Clyde Lester Hauver, Jr.
By 1927, Clyde Sr. eventually followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the Frederick County Sheriff’s Department. As a Sheriff’s Deputy, he was charged with upholding law and order throughout the county. Not only did this pertain to the streets of Downtown Frederick, but his old stomping grounds of Foxville within the wooded environs of Catoctin Mountain. Local newspapers of the late 1920’s chronicle the challenges law enforcement officials had to endure during a time known as “the Roaring Twenties.” Alcohol prohibition set the stage for organized crime in the form on “moonshining.”
Clyde L. Hauver was now 35 years old in July, 1929. The father of three left his wife with a kiss before going off to work on that morning of July 31st. He apparently told his nervous wife Margaret not to worry, saying "Your boy'll come back."
The events of that day would forever link Clyde Hauver with the names “Blue Blazes” and “white lightning.” These could’ve easily been nicknames befitting a cunning baseball pitcher. Unfortunately, Hauver would not earn these on a baseball diamond, instead they would be the cause for Hauver’s premature death. Blue Blazes was the largest, and best equipped, moonshine still in Frederick County history. It was an illegal operation, and it was located within a mile of Deputy Hauver’s birthplace.
An informant named Charles Lewis had given a tip to Clyde Hauver’s co-worker, Deputy Verner Redmond, one week before. Lewis provided knowledge of the whiskey still’s location and proposed operating times. The department quickly mobilized and set up plans for a raid to take place on July 31st.
Several newspaper accounts of the event and subsequent trials exists in archival repositories, as do stories written later on the subject. When conducting research and interviews for a history video documentary on Thurmont, I even had the opportunity to talk to several folks who remembered the great Blue Blazes Raid of 1929. Some had family members that had partook in and purchased the chief export of the famed still. Over the years, many talented writers have produced articles on the Raid and death of Clyde L. Hauver. Among my favorites are the following which will relay the story far better than I. Award-winning writer James Rada, Jr. wrote the following account for the Emmitsburg.net website and followed with a more recent article in the Catoctin Banner in 2016. Here is a portion of the former:
“Even with the approach of evening, July 31, 1929, was still a warm day on Catoctin Mountain. Two cars drove up the mountain on Route 77, a dirt road leading from Thurmont to Hagerstown. Six men rode in the cars. Only five would be alive two hours later. The cars pulled off the side of the road. Frederick County Deputy John Hemp and Lester Hoffman climbed out of one of them.
Although not a deputy, Hoffman was the only one in the group who knew his way through the forest to what an informant had described a week earlier as a "large liquor plant." This was the Prohibition era in the U.S. and although liquor was illegal, people still craved it. And so others made moonshine in stills hidden in mountains close to farms that supplied the grain needed for the fermentation process. The five deputies and Hoffman were headed to destroy just such a still, but first they needed to prove the Catoctin Mountain operation was making moonshine.
The two men carried a jug as they headed up the winding mountain path. A man sitting atop a large rock alongside the path stood up and blocked their way. According to The Frederick Post, the exchange went like this:
"Where are yuh goin'?" he asked.
"We want to buy some liquor," Hemp said.
"Yuh better git out of here if yuh don't want to git shot," the mountaineer retorted, according to the officers.
Hemp and Hoffman turned around and walked back to the rest of their group. Then, joined by deputies Verner Redmond, William Wertenbaker, William Steiner and Clyde Hauver, they all started toward the still.
"The officers, in attempting to creep up on the small vale in which the still was situated, ascended a winding mountain path, which led abruptly to the scene of the tragedy," reported the newspaper.
Hauver and Redmond led the group. As they neared the still, shots rang out. Hauver fell and the deputies scattered for cover as the moonshiners fired on them, hidden by the underbrush. The deputies returned fire and the moonshiners retreated. "The sheriff's forces did not immediately realize that Hauver had been mortally wounded and, thinking he had merely tripped over a root, were intent only on the capture of the moonshiners. Counting up their forces after the fusillade of firing, Hauver was missing and, returning to the scene, he was found with his head in a pool of blood and his life was fast ebbing away," the newspaper reported.
George Wireman wrote in a 1993 article, "From one of the statements gathered, it was learned that the bullet that struck Clyde Hauver was indeed intended for Deputy Redmond." Catoctin Mountain Park Ranger Debra Mills said, "Legend has it, he (Hauver) may have been involved in a love triangle and was shot in the back."
Dr. Morris Birely from Thurmont treated Hauver while waiting for an ambulance. The ambulance took Hauver to the hospital in Frederick. "Although everything possible was done for Hauver he never had a chance. When he reached the hospital he had no pulse and was nearly bloodless, so great had been the loss of blood during his time he laid in the mountain trail and during the time necessary to bring him to Frederick," reported the newspaper.
Once Hauver was on his way to Frederick, the remaining deputies used picks and axes to destroy the vats and boiler.
The Frederick Post reported that Blue Blazes Still was "one of the largest and best equipped in Frederick County." It was said to have had a boiler from a steam locomotive, twenty 500-gallon-capacity wooden vats filled with corn mash, two condensing coils and a cooling box. Supposedly the still produced alcohol so fast that if a man took away a five-gallon bucket of alcohol and dumped it into a vat, by the time he returned to the still, another bucket would be filled and waiting to be removed.
The authorities began an intense manhunt for the moonshiners. Word of the tragedy quickly spread throughout the county, eventually reaching Deputy Hauver’s family living at 407 W. South Street.
Distilling the Case
Another great account of the aftermath of the ill-fated raid comes from a historic resource study of Catoctin Mountain Park written by Dr. Edmund F. Wehrle in March, 2000. (https://www.nps.gov/parkhistory/online_books/cato/hrs.htm)
Here is a pertinent except from Chapter 4:
Within a few hours police rounded up those responsible for the ambush. Paul Williams of Hagerstown surrendered along one of the roads leading from the still. He was shirtless and had several days growth of bread. Another moonshiner, Lloyd Lewis, stumbled into a doctor's office in Smithsburg, seeking treatment for a gunshot wound to the hand. The doctor quickly notified authorities. Police found yet another suspect, Lester Clark, drunk and hiding in the woods. In addition to Williams and Clark, police arrested Osby McAfee, William "Monk" Miller, Norris Clark, Charles Lewis, and Floyd Williams, the brother of Paul. McAfee owned a home on the Thurmont-Foxville Road, where the gang apparently stayed and took meals while working the still. Several of the moonshiners were locals. Charles Lewis was the son of prominent fruit grower Hooker Lewis from Thurmont. But the Williams brothers were from Hagerstown and hailed originally from North Carolina. Lester “Leslie” Clark was a Virginian.
Authorities then had the difficult job of unraveling the events leading up to the botched raid. Police initially insisted that they had been double-crossed. Charles Lewis, they claimed, lured them into an ambush. But the day following the ambush, the sheriff's office released Lewis from custody. Frederick County Sheriff William C. Roderick, who strangely had been in Pittsburgh during the raid, returned and insisted that his officers had not been double-crossed. Likewise, not all local authorities seemed concerned with illegal moonshining in the mountains. Thurmont Constable Charles W. Smith, who had participated in several still raids, insisted that the "moonshiners appear to want to be let alone. They won't disturb anyone unless they are interfered with. To the man they are opposed to the prohibition law." Seeking to contain the confusion and suspicion surrounding the case, the Frederick Sheriff's Department arranged to have Special Detective Joseph F. Daugherty, from the Baltimore Police department, act as a special investigator in the case.
Eventually State's Attorney William Strom sorted through the evidence and rearrested Charles Lewis. He then charged Lewis, McAfee, and Clark with the murder. The other moonshiners faced charges of manufacturing liquor for sale. A Grand Jury that convened on September 9, 1929 subsequently indicted Lewis and Clark for murder. An overflow crowd gathered for the trail, held in December in Hagerstown. A surprise witness from Baltimore, W.L. Poole testified that Lewis had threatened "to get [Deputy] Redmond by fair means or foul."
Osby McAfee testified that Lewis wanted to use the McAfee house for a meeting at which to set up the police. McAfee insisted that he had refused. A few days after his testimony, McAffee's home burned to the ground. Authorities suspected arson. As the newspaper explained "firing property is a mode of revenge that has been practiced in some mountain sections." Attorneys for Lewis and Clark insisted that, while both men had fired shots, Hauver had been shot from the rear. Therefore, the killing was an accident. Facing the Christmas holiday, the presiding judge held night sessions to speed up the trail. After several days of confusing and conflicting testimony, the case went to the jury, who convicted both men. Three Maryland circuit judges then sentenced Clark to 15 years and Lewis to life.
Both Lewis and Clark denied having fired the shots that killed Deputy Hauver. Given the confusion at the scene and the unresolved issue of who double-crossed whom, many in the local area long have wondered whether justice was served in the Blue Blazes case. Naturally, hearsay and rumors--all unsubstantiated--developed around the story. In 1972, the Youth Conservation Corps, a federal project to employ young people, sent forty youths into the community surrounding Catoctin Mountain Park to gather local folklore. When it came to the Blue Blazes story, some locals claimed that out-of-town "tar heels" had operated the still and that the tip-off to police came from local moonshiners upset about competition. The story has some validity since the Williams brothers were from North Carolina. Others insisted that the raid was the product of a revenge plot relating to a love triangle. According to the romance-gone-wrong story, Deputy Hauver was the innocent victim of a bullet meant for someone else. The fact that Charles Lewis was a locally-known figure, considered to be "a nice guy," and a member of a well-regarded family added to a sense that justice had not quite been served. Ultimately in 1950, Governor Theodore McKeldin commuted Lewis's life sentence. And the now-elderly inmate, suffering from tuberculosis was released from prison. Clark had been paroled in 1946.
The exact circumstances surrounding the Blue Blazes raid and the murder of Clyde Hauver most likely will remain a mystery and a testament to the confusing times and effects of a law with little popular support.
And what happened to Clyde L. Hauver Sr.’s baseball rival, Ray Gardner? He played for the Cleveland Indians in 82 games during that 1929 season. He only managed 33 games during the 1930 Cleveland season. His major league career was over, but unlike Hauver, there was still life after baseball. He came back to Frederick and resided in Yellow Springs. He wasn’t through with baseball as he coached the Hustlers for a number of years. From 1952 until the time of his death in 1968, Gardner was employed at Fort Detrick. He lived until 1968 and is buried within St. Johns’ Catholic Cemetery in Downtown Frederick.
In 1994, Clyde L. Hauver’s name was added to the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, D.C. It was read during a candlelight vigil, attended by family members, Frederick County deputies and other County officials. This is located at 901 East Street NW (http://www.nleomf.org/memorial/)
Today, the Blue Blazes Still is gone, but Catoctin Mountain Park has a 50-gallon pot still (captured in a Tennessee raid) on the same location along Harman’s Creek, renamed Blue Blazes Run. The National Park Service uses this to give context to the rich heritage of moonshining on Catoctin Mountain. Here the visitor will discover interpretive panels that tell the story of the still operation and death of Deputy Sheriff Clyde Hauver.
And, by the way, if you're looking to find an alcoholic libation up in the area of Blue Blazes today, you'll have to look elsewhere as the Hauver's (voting) District remains one of five dry areas in Frederick County.
One of the most beautiful “stones” in Mount Olivet Cemetery was pointed out to me a few years back by my friend Theresa Mathias Michel. Over the years, Mrs. Michel has taught me a great deal about local history since our first meeting back in 1994. At that time, I was compiling a video documentary entitled Frederick Town for my employer GS Communications. More so, “Treta” Michel has been responsible for giving me several lessons on her own family members, and other notable figures in the rich annals of our town and county. Many of these folks reside in our fair cemetery, including Mrs. Michel’s brother, a former United States senator, the Hon. Charles “Mac” Mathias—a masterful local historian himself.
A year-and-a-half ago, I found myself walking through Mount Olivet on a crisp autumn day, taking pictures of gravestones and the scenic grounds. My cell phone rang, and on the other line was Mrs. Michel’s personal assistant, Jennifer, asking if I would be available for an upcoming lunch date the next week. I replied in the affirmative and told her to pass on (to Mrs. Michel) that I was currently within yards of the burial spots of Mrs. Michel’s aforementioned brother, late husband Glenn, and parents. She abruptly directed me to stay where I was, and instructed her assistant to drive her out to the cemetery because she wanted to show me something special.
Just fifteen minutes later, Jennifer pulled up to me in the cemetery, and Mrs. Michel told me to get in the car. I was driven to the southern tip of Area F, with a commanding view of the stadium entrance to Nymeo Field at Harry Grove Stadium. I helped my friend out of the back seat, and she proceeded to lead me up to a large, marble monument located not far from the car. It stood over eight feet tall and took the shape of an ornate Celtic cross. And when I say ornate, I mean master craftsmanship, designed with the inclusion of exquisite bas relief designs and portals.
I asked, “So who is this John Knight McDannold?” (the name of the deceased individual lying under this monument).
Mrs. Michel replied, “I have no idea, I just brought you here to show you this magnificent gravestone.”
She then told me that her mother relayed to her the fact that this marble memorial was created by Tiffany’s of New York.
I replied: “Thee Tiffany’s of jewelry and glass fame?”
”Yes, indeed, she retorted.”
I can’t do justice in describing the beauty and grandeur of this amazing art piece residing within Mount Olivet. However, a photograph should equal 1000 words, so I’ve included a few for this story.
The Celtic cross is a form of Christian cross featuring a nimbus or ring that emerged in Ireland and Britain during the Early Middle Ages. A type of ringed cross, it became widespread through its use in the stone high crosses erected across the islands, especially in regions evangelized by Irish missionaries, from the 9th through the 12th centuries. In recent centuries, the Celtic cross became a popular design to incorporate into cemetery memorials.
Through my research, I have failed to find any stories related to the creation of this particular monument, or a stamp or label saying Tiffany’s on the work itself (perhaps it’s on the bottom). I did find that other historic cemeteries in New York, Illinois and Kentucky have stones attributed to artist/designer Louis Comfort Tiffany (1848-1933). The example in Illinois provided me with important context for our “Tiffany” here in Mount Olivet. This was a commissioned work for Edmund Cummings, an officer who served in the Union Army during the American Civil War under Gen. Ulysses Grant and Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman. After the war, Cummings moved to Chicago and founded successful real estate company. Afterwards, he constructed an electric streetcar line called the Cicero & Proviso Street Railway Company.
It should come as no surprise that the Cummings family had the necessary funds to approach the Tiffany Studios in New York. The testament to this prominent Chicago businessman resulted in a bas-relief angel carved into a soaring Celtic cross. It can be found in the Forest Home Cemetery at Forest Park, Illinois.
Started as a stationery and fancy goods store in New York City in 1837, Tiffany’s became known for creating high-end silverware, glassware, and, of course, jewelry. Flash forward to the turn of the century (1900), still 60 years before Tiffany’s would surprisingly become known as a popular breakfast spot (at least for Audrey Hepburn in 1961). The firm, under the direction of Louis Comfort Tiffany, could be found designing and creating funerary monuments.
I presume that our elaborate cross monument in question here in Mount Olivet was created in, or around, the year 1900 at Tiffany’s original studio located on Manhattan’s Fourth Avenue, between 24th and 25th streets. Unfortunately, I have not been able to find an exact delivery date to Frederick or project cost figure. I’m guessing like many “out of area” grave stones, and corpses, this was shipped via the railroad, and via cart or wagon to the cemetery from the freight station on South Carroll Street. Two other things are for sure: the monument was pricey, and likely did not arrive in one of those trademark Tiffany Blue Boxes.
So back to the question I asked of Mrs. Michel back in October 2015, “Whose gravestone is this?” The answer—John Knight McDannold. At the time of his death, McDannold was arguably one of Frederick’s wealthiest residents. But why is he unknown? While we have plenty of McDonald’s Restaurants in the area, we lack a McDannold street, building or park. Who was this guy?
I found John Knight McDannold to have an amazing pedigree. He seems to have lived a gilded life during the Gilded Age—one certainly deserving of a Tiffany headstone. Born in Orange, New Jersey on January 23rd, 1874, John Knight McDannold was the son of Capt. Thomas Alexander McDannold and Frances “Fanny” Beall (Knight) McDannold . Nearly a decade before John’s birth, Capt. McDannold was an unwelcome guest here in Frederick, the former hometown of his in-laws (John Knight and Frances Zeruiah S. Beall). It seems that the good captain (Thomas McDannold) was an officer in the Confederacy. More so, he was a member of Gen. Jubal Early’s staff. Of course, Gen. Early and staff are best remembered for inflicting a ransom of $200,000 on town back in July 1864.
These Rebels threatened to burn the town to the ground at the time of the Battle of Monocacy. Luckily, the banking institutions came through with the necessary funds, and Frederick was spared…unlike Chambersburg, Pennsylvania a month later after failing to “ante up.” Ironically, it was Mrs. Michel’s brother, the aforementioned Sen. “Mac” Mathias, who in 1986 introduced legislation to Congress for the Federal government to repay Frederick for the money the municipality had to repay the banks for saving said hides. It was unsuccessful, but a noble attempt.
After the war, Capt. McDannold, a native of Natchez, Mississippi took up residence in New York City and continued his pre-war occupation as a lawyer. In the 1880 census, six-year-old John was living with his family in the boarding house of Henrietta Knauff, located at 126 17th Avenue near the intersection with Irving Place. This is in the Gramercy Park neighborhood of east Manhattan. It is very likely that the McDannold family was no stranger to the many offerings of the Tiffany Company, located roughly 14 blocks away.
John K. McDannold had a twin sister named Frances Celia, and another named Alexandra, born in 1876. Not much could be found on the McDannolds outside their fondness for traveling, which was said to have been done extensively. Perhaps all the jet-setting took its toll because the majority of the family was gone by the next census. Sister Frances Celia had passed in 1878 (age four). John’s mother, Frances, died in September of 1882. His father would follow his wife to the grave less than a year later in 1883.
The orphaned children (John and Alexandra) went to live with their maternal grandmother, Frances Zeruiah S. (Beall) Knight in Frederick, Maryland. Grandmother Knight was born in Frederick County in 1813, the daughter of William Murdoch Beall, a county sheriff hailing from the Urbana area. Mrs. Beall’s grandfather, Elisha Beall (1745-1831) was a veteran of the Revolutionary War—serving as a lieutenant in the Maryland battalion of the Flying Camp under Capt. Reazin Beall at the Battle of Long Island. His home, named Boxwood Lodge, still stands north of Urbana along MD355.
Like her grandchildren, Mrs. Knight was supplied with a hefty inheritance left by her late husband John Knight, a successful merchant. Mr. Knight was originally from Frederick, but moved to Indiana with his family when he was ten. His father (Elijah) died that same year (around 1816), and his mother (Sarah Dix) followed suit three years later. He instantly became responsible for six little siblings. Knight soon hiked to Cincinnati on his own, and apprenticed in the printing trade. At 19, he went to Natchez, Mississippi and made a fortune as a cotton plantation owner and merchant. The young man came back to Frederick in 1833 and took Fanny Beall as his bride. Two sons were born to the couple in 1834 and 1835 respectively, but both died in the years following their birth. The Knights, likely devastated with grief, returned to Mississippi where their daughter Frances (Knight) McDannold (John’s mother) was born.
John Knight retired in the early 1850’s and took his wife and daughter to live in Europe. He shopped around and left his money and assets in the hands of a keen investor, a transplanted native from New England named Enoch Pratt (1808-1896). Pratt had moved to Baltimore and took an interest in civic affairs, later establishing a noted hospital and free library system. Mr. Knight had another notable philanthropist handling his monetary affairs in London—George Peabody (1795-1869). Letters found by a descendant in the 1950’s show that Enoch Pratt, an ardent Unionist, advised Knight to stay abroad during the turbulent years of the Civil War, thinking that his southern leanings could cause confiscation of his monetary holdings.
John Knight would not return to Maryland, and the US for that matter, during his own lifetime, dying in October 1864, just a few months after the Battle of Monocacy delayed Gen. Early (and his future son-in-law), allowing Gen. Grant to refortify Washington, DC against a Rebel attack. At the time of his death, the Knights were living in Biarritz, France, a resort town on the southwest coast of the country.
Fanny Knight had the means in 1866 to have Mr. Knight’s body shipped across the Atlantic to be reinterred in Frederick’s new, “garden style cemetery,” originally opened in 1854. The two Knight children who died in the mid 1830’s had already been reinterred here in 1856, after being removed from the All Saints Episcopal graveyard. A large obelisk-style monument would be erected over his gravesite.
The Ill-Fated Mystery Trip
In early February, 1899, John and friend Guy Clifton Thomas set out for a six-week sojourn with hopes of spending the remainder of winter in the warm sun of Cuba.
The departure of McDannold and Thomas from Frederick was a town event. It occurred on Tuesday, February 1st, 1899 and was even chronicled in the local newspaper.
After spending a night in Richmond (VA), the duo next set out for Savannah (GA). The plan was to spend some time here visiting old friends before embarking for Brunswick (GA) where they would catch a boat for their tropical end destination. While in Savannah, McDannold and Thomas took up residence at the DeSoto Hotel.
John suddenly found himself hampered with an ailment which progressed into a heavy cold. Soon this inconvenience changed to pneumonia.
Thomas telegrammed John’s grandmother and sister back in Frederick on February 7th, informing them of his companion’s malady. The next morning (February 8th) another telegram received in Frederick reported John’s condition having worsened overnight. Alexandra and her cousin Nannie Floyd quickly decided to make their way to John’s bedside in Georgia. The young women hastily packed bags and boarded the first train heading south.
All the while, John K. McDannold’s condition continued spiraling downward. He would lose his fight at 3:30pm on February 8th. Word of John’s death was received in Frederick by telegram at 5:30pm. Alexandra would receive the heartbreaking news in Richmond while waiting to board a connecting train bound for Savannah.
McDannold would never make it to his final destination of Cuba. Fate would instead carry his body back to Frederick, accompanied by devastated companion Guy Thomas. His death would make from page news, above the fold.
John Knight McDannald would be laid to rest in the family plot (Area F/Lot 53) beside his deceased parents and grandfather.
The funeral of John K. McDannold was very well-attended, and included friends with notable Frederick names remembered even today, such as Harry Grove, Ira J. McCurdy, Charles Doll and Harry Nixdorff.
Alexandra and grandmother Fanny Knight likely placed the order in with the Tiffany Studio in New York for John’s elaborate grave monument. It may not have been in place for Mrs. Knight to see with her own eyes, as she would soon join her grandson in Mount Olivet, dying 17 months later (to the day) on July 8, 1900.
Miss Alexandra McDannold was now alone, but not for long. She kept up a life within social circles here and abroad, marrying in January, 1901. Her groom was Lawrence Rust Lee, a descendant of the famed Lees of Virginia, whose great-grandfather, Edmund Jennings Lee, was a first cousin to Gen. Robert E. Lee. The young couple made their home in Pittsburgh, where Alexandra’s husband worked for a large pump manufacturer. They would eventually have residences in nearby Leesburg and Washington, DC as well.
Sadly, the Lees marriage would end in divorce in the 1930’s. Alexandra would die in the nation’s capital in April, 1955 at her Northwest residence at 3411 Newark Street. Alexandra McDannold Lee too would join her brother and extended family in Mount Olivet.
This story certainly tested my genealogical skills, as I commend readers for keeping all the Knights, McDannolds, Bealls and lees straight. My biggest personal research surprise of all came in finding that Lawrence Rust Lee would marry again in 1956. He wed a lady named Louise Goldsborough (1888-1962)—an ancestral cousin of my wife, Ellen. Ellen’s middle name is Louise, and actually came from this woman, as she was a first cousin to Ellen’s grandfather.
I guess it’s safe to assume, that when conducting history research of this time, one should always “GO LIGHTLY,” as you never know what you will find.