PREFACE
The afternoon and night of January 4, 1957 we were privileged to have as houseguests the Harold Gouchers. In the course of the evening conversations, I related a few incidents in Father's life, which seemed interesting enough to Marie that she exacted a promise from me to put them in writing, together with any other items I deemed might be of interest to posterity. She said this would make interesting data for Max to add to his collection.
If the matter herein be of interest to others, full credit is due Marie as I had no inspiration to write a biography and these few pages should not be considered as such.
In addition to getting me at work on this, Marie has worked the data into nice form from a very messy and illegible manuscript and has furnished six typed copies at the expense of much time and effort. Many, many thanks to Marie.
Edward E. Shaffer
Transcribed by Don Gillung in December
2004 from the original document written
by Edward E. Shaffer and Marie Goucher.
BIOGRAPHY OF ROBERT WILSON SHAFFER
(Written by his son, Edward E. Shaffer)
Robert Wilson Shaffer was born at Smicksburg, Indiana County, Pennsylvania, June 19, 1843. His father, Andrew, a shoemaker by trade, was born in Northampton County, Pennsylvania, September 29, 1802.
After Andrew was married (Christena Easterly), he lived for a while in Northumberland County, Pennsylvania, and then moved to the vicinity of Buffalo, New York, where his first son, George, was born ------------ also daughter Lavinia.
From Buffalo Andrew moved to the southern part of Jefferson County, Pennsylvania, and from there to Smicksburg, Indiana County, Pennsylvania, where Robert and Hanna wire born.
From Smicksburg he moved to Dayton, Armstrong County and from there to Emerickville, Jefferson County, in 1846 and lived on a farm adjacent to the Shugart's place. Moved to Brookville in 1848 and to Richardsville in 1850, and lived on the Jamison place adjacent to the Bedell farm on the south and on the northerly side of the Hazen road, about one mile east of the Baptist Church. From here he worked at his trade in Brookville, 7 miles distant. In 1854 he moved back to Brookville and lived there five years.
It was from Brookville that his daughter Matilda went to Canoe Creek, Blair County, and was followed shortly by her mother and several of her brothers and sisters, including Henry, Lavinia, Samuel, Robert and Hanna, the youngest of the family -----Robert was next to the youngest.
Robert's mother (Andrew's wife) lived and died in the home of her daughter, Matilda Stewart, and is buried in the nearby United Brethren churchyard, about a mile or two northeast of Canoe Creek. It is not difficult to imagine the struggle for existence of this frail mother and her six children, ranging in age from nine to twenty.
Robert was about eleven at this time. He was brought up in a large family with a worthless, cruel drunk as a father, who moved about from place to place and subjected his wife and children to extreme poverty. Now that his parents were separated, Robert, out of necessity, was placed in a farm home near Canoe Creek.
(In 1926 my son Howard and I drove my father and mother to Canoe Creek, where we visited these scenes that my father had told me about so often in my boyhood days.)
It seems that both of Robert's parents came from good families. His paternal grandfather, Valentine Shaffer, was a well educated man and a leading educator in his community, who died in his nineties, leaving a masterfully written will in which he disposed of his property to his ten children in just a few lines (still on file in the Jefferson County Court House in Brookville). There were then and still are many worthwhile folks in Lancaster County of near kin to his mother.
Born of a restless disposition, it is little wonder that young Robert ran away from what semblance of home there was left to try life "on his own." He found his way along the canal to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where he boarded a steamboat on which he did chores in exchange for his passage to Cincinnati, Ohio.
Upon his arrival in Cincinnati, he wandered the countryside until he came upon a farmer and his wife near Hamilton, who agreed to let him do the chores on their farm for his room and board. He arose at daybreak and worked hard, and somehow managed to get some schooling. Evidently he was treated with kindness because he always harboured a warm feeling for these people. Upon the arrival of spring, Robert wandered back to Cincinnati, where he booked passage on a boat to Pittsburgh on the same terms as on his trip down. The captain seemed to think well of him and wanted to keep him on, but Robert, apparently liking to rove, set out for Canoe Creek.
Robert was twelve years old now, and soon after his return to Canoe Creek he was stricken with typhoid ----- the result, no doubt, of the tainted food and polluted water on the boat. His sister Matilda nursed him through his sickness, and then placed him under obligation to work for her for a period of three years. In all, Robert spent about five years in the community of Canoe Creek. The time now would bring us up to around 1859 two years before the Civil War.
During the two intervening years until the war started, it is not clear where Robert spent his time, but his brother, George, who was several years older, had married Sara Humphreys and was living at Richardsville, and it may be assumed that Robert, with his roving disposition and traveling experience, probably did a lot of commuting between Canoe Creek and Richardsville. The distance between the two was only 115 miles a very small obstacle to a 17 year old lad of those days.
Robert had very little schooling. His first teacher in Brookville was a Miss Jenks, of whom he often spoke, and who, I believe, lived into this century. German was spoken in his home during his early years. When a boy, he spoke broken English, but gradually grew out of it. His father, Andrew, spoke broken English all though his life.
THE CIVIL WAR
I never heard Father tell a lie, nor did any of his children ever accuse him of such. When the war came, it was said that he lied about his age in order to enlist ------ recruits under eighteen were not accepted.
The boys at that time did not go to the army in airplanes or busses. They walked. The usual route was through Punxsutawney and Indiana to Blairsville where they got the train. Along the way they were greeted everywhere with kindness plus all of the best things to eat that the country afforded ------ not at government expense, either.
Robert took part in most of the battles in Eastern Virginia and Maryland, and at Malvern Hill a rebel bullet lodged between the bones of his leg below the knee. This bullet he carried throughout his life.
GETTYSBURG
The day before the battle, Robert's regiment marched the entire day from some place near Virginia, and, after marching all night, arrived at the battlefield after daybreak. Robert made the front lines about 9:00 a.m. and within ten minutes got hit in the shoulder. He was stationed at the edge of the wheat field near two small trees along the stone wall close to the place where the monument to the Pennsylvania 17th Regiment now stands. This is at the edge of the woods, and these trees are now grown to medium size (1956). He was sent to the hospital and by the next day decided he did not like the place and just walked away (AWOL), thinking he was of no use to the army anyhow in his condition. He wandered over to Lancaster to visit some of his mother's people (she had been reared near Lancaster).
All through his life, Father liked to visit relatives although he never stayed long in one place. He seemed to have acquired from experience Benjamin Franklin's conviction that fish and visitors begin to stink on the third day. With plenty of time on his hands now, it is easy for one to imagine a case of homesickness developing. After all, it was not much over 200 miles to Richardsville via Canoe Creek, and why not see all the folks during his convalescence?
He was now rid of all army regulations except 40 pounds of equipment to lug around, and with only a sore shoulder and an ounce of rebel lead in his leg, the 200-mile trip home looked like a cinch. All was set for a pleasant journey except for one fly in the ointment he realized that he was a deserter! The army by this time had missed him and was worried about where they could find him and Robert was worried about when. His plans were to see his kinfolk and report for duty when he was able. He was 20 years old now ----- a real war veteran and had traveled more alone before he was twelve years old than 80% of the population would in their whole lifetime.
He had no cash, no automobile, and not even a Standard Oil map. My one regret is that I never quizzed him more for details of his wanderings as to how he obtained food and shelter. Within three weeks two Army men caught up with him at Richardsville and took him away in the evening about 8:30 in the light of a full moon and with the women folks in tears. His crime, of course, called for the death penalty.
He had, however, a good army record so that rather than shoot the lad, they put him back in service and left his execution to the rebels.
Every few years after the war, the state of Pennsylvania furnished its veterans free transportation to a reunion held on the battlefield. Father always attended. At the 50th reunion while in front of the Devil's Den, an old chap from Missouri came up and said he was hunting for his gun. He claimed that he had been in the den at the time of the battle, had laid his gun on a high ledge while he went out to look around, had found the rebels too close for comfort, and had made his get-away without his gun. He went into the den and soon came out with his musket, which had been rusting away for half a century.
(In the summer of 1923 our family drove Father to the battlefield. He showed us the spot where he had been wounded, and, though 80 years of age, he climbed to the top of every observation tower we could find.)
N. B.
The Pennsylvania monument has four sides, each of which bears thousands of names in small bronze letters, making it difficult to find any particular name. Father's name is to be found on one of the four sides and in about the position shown on the diagram below. Doubtless this monument will be maintained as long as our nation survives.
APPOMATTOX
Many times in his life, it seems that Father would just chance to be near where things were happening. He just happened to be in the front trench at Appomattox when General Gordon with his staff rode by to notify Grant that Lee was ready to surrender. Tom Anderson from Big Run was next to Dad and, as these rebels approached, Tom was just ready to pull the trigger on Gordon when Dad yelled, "Don't shoot, Tom. I think they are carrying the white flag."
General Gordon (1832 - 1904) became a noted lecturer, and shortly before his death, appeared in Brookville at the Jefferson County Teacher’s Institute. When he was told how near he had come to a Yankee bullet, he requested that Father be brought in from Richardsville to sit on the platform during the lecture.
Soon the boys were out of the trenches and, while walking about with Tom Anderson, they noticed a group of men, working like mad, whacking an old apple tree to pieces. They had no idea what it was all about but decided to horn in on the deal. Anderson, a big burly six footer, crowded in, got hold of the ax, cut out a chunk for himself, and then handed the ax to Father. The hunk of wood, which Father cut for himself was nearly one inch thick, about five inches wide, and eight or nine inches long. It lay around the house as long as I can remember. Late in life Father had it made into penholders and presented one to each of his children. I kept mine in my office desk from where it disappeared. I would rather have lost a hundred dollars.
(I never knew the reason for the excitement over this apple tree but, when my brother William visited Appomattox, he talked to an old lady there who said that, as a little girl, she had sat on the front porch of her home and had seen the swarm of Blue-coats cut up the tree. When you visit Appomattox, if you will take the time to read the posters in the McClain home and various other houses open to the public, you will find many references to a certain apple tree, and it seems not too presumptious to suppose that these penholders came from that tree.)
Father was on duty in the front line as the Confederate soldiers passed by and stacked their guns. His last march was through the city of Washington in the grand review of the Army of the Potomac, after which he was mustered out with the rank of corporal. He served the first term of his enlistment in the 62nd Regiment and at its expiration reenlisted voluntarily for the duration of the war. The 62nd became so decimated that it was combined with the 155th but the old 62nd always remained his true love.
Father had five brothers in the service. William was killed in battle. Chauncey received a wound in the leg that caused his death when I was a lad. Henry, who had been a prisoner in a Confederate prison (I think at Andersonville, South Carolina.), lived and died in our community at the age of 82.
AFTER THE WAR
Robert Wilson Shaffer was married to Mary Jane Humphries August 3, 1865 and set up housekeeping in Richardsville in the old log house which Mary Jane's father, commonly known as "Gan" Humphries, had built when he settled there about 1832. "Gan" then built himself another house about three feet to the east. I was the last of the six children born in the old log house. Sam, the oldest, was born May 11, 1866 and I on September 2, 1877. Just imagine the serenity of our grandparent’s home life at these close quarters!
James McMurtrie deeded Mother 26 acres of land from his farm on the north upon which a four room house of green lumber was built. This is the house in which I spent my first winter. It stood on posts about 18 - 36 inches high (the land sloped slightly) allowing the good fresh air free circulation on top, bottom, and all four sides so that when the outside temperature reached anywhere from zero to minus 20 one can easily imagine the coziness inside! There was no paper between the two layers of the sidewall boards, which, being made from green lumber, soon warped. Snow would drift through the cracks and it was a common occurrence for water to freeze in the teakettle at night. A cave was dug in the ground near the house to keep the canned fruit and vegetables from freezing.
For four years our family of eight lived here before the well was dug. Water for drinking, cooking, and washing was carried from the Longnecker spring, which was a distance of two-fifths of a mile from the house, In good weather Mother took clothes and children down the hill through the woods to the spring where she kindled a fire to heat the water to wash us and the clothes.
During the next few years brick chimneys were installed, a good foundation built under the house, the walls were plastered, an addition was built, and the entire structure weather-boarded and painted. About 1888 a substantial barn was built of lumber provided for in "Gan's" will.
Father was about five feet eight and his normal weight was around 160 pounds. He was never sick, never used liquor or tobacco, wound the clock every night at 9:00, went to bed, arose at 5,00 a.m., built the fires, fed the live-stock, and was ready for breakfast and the day's work. He was handy with tools, strong, and well built. When a young man, he worked in the oil fields and in one day walked from near Tidioute to Brookville ---- about 55 miles --- not a world record, but it is doubtful if any of his descendents could do it and it is unlikely that any of them ever walked half that distance in one day.
With all Grandfather Andrew Shaffer's meaness and shortcomings, my parents took him in to our home seven years prior to his death, gave him kind treatment, and buried him at no expense to and with no thanks from the other kin.
When he came to live with us, his turbulent nature was much subdued by age, poverty, and shame. He created little discord, spent his last years in comparative ease and comfort, musing, reading his old German Bible, and often singing hymns in German.
Every autumn when the hogs were butchered, Father saved and dried the hog bladders for Grandfather to use for pouches to carry his smoking tobacco. These pouches kept his tobacco dry.
Every few months Grandfather would walk away with little or no notice, his only luggage being his cane, clay pipe, smoking tobacco, and Baltimore Twist chewing tobacco, each in its hog-bladder pouch. He was then in his middle eighties, would visit relatives in Brookville and Ringgold, and would stay away from one to three weeks. For such a short trip change of clothing was superfluous. As late as April 1, 1890, I saw him a few miles south of Brookville, walking to Ringgold ------- probably his last long walk. He was 87½ years of age then, He passed on the following January 12, 1891 at the age of 88 years and 3½ months. I was the youngest of his grandsons that carried him to his grave in the Baptist churchyard at Richardsville. My age then was thirteen plus. Our home life seemed about the average for such a large family. It took real work to clear the land and to provide food to keep us alive in what then was a real wilderness. I must give my brother William the credit for leading us out of the woods. Inspired by the Reverend Collins, the Baptist minister, and Uncle Sam Humphries, my mother's brother, he began selling books at age thirteen and in a year or so got to Reidsburg Academy (later Clarion Normal) and Lewisburg (Bucknell), taught his first term of school at Clarington at the age of seventeen, and so blazed the trail for all of us. All through life he remained virtually the head of the family. We all sought his advice when important decisions were to be made and his conclusions were usually sound. It was mainly through his persuasions that any of our family and other young people in the neighborhood got away to school.
Our parents remained members of the Richardsville Baptist Church to the end. Father was secretary of the Sunday School for many years until they left the farm and moved to Summerville. They were both fair and impartial toward their children. There were no pets in the family. If they helped one more than they did the others, it was because that one needed the help most. While I have no ancestry to boast about, I am truly thankful to go through life with the knowledge that my parents were good honest folks who did the best for us all that their meager education and means enabled them to do. I am sure that all of us share in according to them our deepest respect and affection.
This information was all submitted for sharing by Don and Dawnie (Cable) (McKillip) Gillung of Brookville Pa. April 2008