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TRANSCRIPT
THE ROAT FAMILY HISTORY
A PHILADELPHIA FAMILY IN THE 18th & 19th CENTURIES
“…the search has begun; I’ve come to see where my
beginnings have gone”
Second Edition
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The Roat Family History
1
Table of Contents
3 A Partial Family Tree
“Follow the yellow brick road”
4 Timeline
“Ain’t it funny how time slips away?”
5 Chapter 1: Prologue
“Come on the amazing journey and learn all you should
know”
10
14
Chapter 2: Jacob & Thomas
“We come in the age’s most uncertain hour”
Chapter 3: Jacob & John
“I am a living legacy to the leader of the band”
22 Chapter 4: Andrew
“The sun’s going down and the moon’s just holding its
breath”
28 Chapter 5: Epilogue
“We’re captive on a carousel of time”
29
Chapter 6: DNA
“We’re all gonna be here forever”
31 Chapter 6: The Records
“I will always be telling this story”
38
41
Subtitles
“I want to tell you”
Map
“All these places have their moments”
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2
Dedication
To my mother’s Uncle Morris, who I never knew, but whose exhaustive genealogy of the
Schofer family captivated me sufficiently to write this one for the Roat family.
To my father, William Richards Roat, whose love and caring of family made me want to
study its past and to present this gift to its future.
To all of our ancestors, but especially to the 19th century members of the Roat family who
experienced Philadelphia’s uncomfortable transition from a “greene Country Towne” to an
industrialized jungle and lived everyday lives of struggle unimaginable to their 21st century
descendants.
Compiled April 1984 to June 2011
Written September 2010 to December 2010
Second Edition written June 2011
DNA chapter added August 2016
Special thanks to Dolores Roat, my 4th cousin, for sharing her research and adding to our
known history
By Stephen Richards Roat
www.roatroots.com
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Timeline “Ain’t it funny how time slips away?”
1739
1760
(est)
1764
The elder Jacob Roat arrives from Germany
Thomas Roat is born
William Condon is born
1776
1784/05
1799
The elder Jacob Roat writes his will and dies a year later
The younger Jacob Roat is born in Philadelphia
Thomas Roat dies
1808 Margaret Condon is born in Philadelphia
1808/09 John W Roat Sr is born in Philadelphia
1834 William Condon Roat is born to John and Margaret
1837 John and Margaret Roat first appear in the Philadelphia Directory.
1844 Catherine is born to John and Margaret
1848 John W Roat Jr is born to John and Margaret
1850 Andrew W Roat is born to John and Margaret
1854 Jacob dies
1858 William Condon Roat Jr is born to William and Hannah; he dies 3 years
later
1862 Margaret dies
1864 Emma is born to William and Hannah
1867 Kate is born to William and Hannah
1869 Andrew and Rosetta file a notice of marriage
1869 Andrew enlists in the Army; sent to Wyoming territory
1870 Adella and/or Delia are born to John Jr and Amanda; Delia dies 3 months
later. Adella (if she really existed) died within 10 years
1871 Bertha is born to John Jr and Amanda; dies 8 months later
1873 Annie is born to John Jr and Amanda
1874 Andrew is discharged from the Army
1875 John Sr dies
1876 John III is born to John Jr and Amanda
~1880 Andrew and Elizabeth are married
1880 John Jr dies at 32 years of age
1884 Kate Roat, William’s daughter, dies at 18 years of age
1884 Elizabeth dies
1884 Andrew marries Hannah
1885 Andrew and Hannah move to 1518 N Opal St
1885 Edward is born to Andrew and Hannah, dies 2 weeks later
1885 Andrew purchases double plot at Glenview for his entire family; moves
Elizabeth there from Monument Cemetery
1886 Harry is born to Andrew and Hannah
1890 Hannah dies delivering a stillborn girl
1895 William dies
1909 Andrew dies
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1
Prologue “Come on the amazing journey and learn all you should know”
have a vague memory. My mother is sitting in a chair by the window of our
small row house on Princeton Avenue in Mayfair, one of the many post-war
neighborhoods built in Philadelphia for the flood of returning GIs eager to raise
families with the help of the GI Bill of Rights. It is daylight. While I seem to remember it
being a cloudy day, the afternoon sun was illuminating the left side of her face, though the
rest of the room was only dimly lit. My siblings are with me, but one seems to be missing.
My mother is holding a tissue or a handkerchief to her face, and we are asking her why she
is crying. I am almost sure that the date is April 26th, 1960, the day her mother died. My
father is not there because he was working days then, his long period of nocturnal laboring
not yet begun, and my younger brother is not there because he will not be of this world for
another seventeen months. I was only 2½ years old. But I have always had this memory. It
stays with me like many other memories, which seem to linger as if awaiting the moment
to take me somewhere, or to make me do something. This hazy, vaporous reminiscence I
believe to be the first memory I have as a human being in this life. And I find it interesting
that my first memory is of a major family event, the likes of which would one day be
investigated by someone researching their family genealogy.
My mother was born Celia Adelaide Schofer on January 20th, 1922. She was one
of 9 children of Frank and Carrie Schofer, and Frank was one of 11 children. I always knew
the family to be huge. When I was quite young, I’d say no older than 10, I discovered the
Schofer Family History. Compiled and written by Henry Morris Schofer, my mother’s
Uncle Morris, it was a hardbound volume of almost 200 pages of biographies and general
family history dating back to the early 1600s. The path stopped there only because of the
Thirty Years War in Europe. Invading armies destroyed everything in their paths,
especially plundering churches for their golden trappings of worship. Churches were also
the repositories of family information, and so the war was responsible for the disappearance
of millions of records which could never be reproduced. I remember spending countless
hours between the dull brown and slightly worn covers of this lengthy tome, reading every
page and story. While my great-great-grandfather fought in a German army against
Napoleon and was present at the surrender of Paris, and my great-grandfather fought for 4
years in the Union Army during the Civil War, I was equally intrigued by the stories of
those who died young, without the chance to make a memorable contribution to the family
history. Catharine Schofer was born in 1822 and died only 5 months later. Cemetery space
was so lacking in the day in Germany that graves would be reused many times. Eventually,
her bones were dug up to allow another to lie in her place. Doubtless, hers is one of the
tens of thousands of skulls staring ghoulishly from a pile in a catacomb, one of countless
mysteries now fodder for tourists and digital cameras.
I
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I would read these stories and wonder, “what about the Roat family?” As much
information as I had on the Schofers, the Roat family history was vague at best. My father
knew his grandfather’s name, but little else beyond a few sketchy and almost insignificant
stories. His grandfather’s name was Andrew. He died a long time ago. No one alive knew
him. He served in the Army in Wyoming. He was from Philadelphia. Why was one history
comprehensive and the other almost non-existent? The Schofers were very pious Lutherans.
They kept family bibles, into which they recorded family events. These bibles weren’t
meant to be carried to church; they were built to withstand the indignities of time and to
pass their stories to succeeding generations. They did their jobs well. And the churches,
both here and in Germany, kept records meticulously. Uncle Morris had a big job, but he
had the resources available to produce a painstakingly complete volume.
The Roats, however, didn’t have these resources. As our line was here in the mid
18th century at least, we didn’t have the benefit of meticulous 18th century European church
records. If there were family bibles, they were not passed down. Official records were not
collected until the mid 19th century and these were sporadic at best. Many events were
simply not reported. Others were reported, but the records not preserved well. All of the
records were made by hand, and the handwriting was unclear and rife with errors. Paper
records in the city often deteriorated, burned in accidental fires, or simply disappeared. As
I began my research in the pre-internet mid-1980s, the challenges, I knew, would be
daunting.
Research began at the Historical Society’s library at 13th and Pine. There, I was
able to examine census records and dozens upon dozens of Philadelphia City Directories,
which were almost the same as today’s phone books. I soon found Andrew and could trace
his life’s wanderings to a small extent. An inquiry to the US Archives turned up Andrew’s
Army enlistment papers and service record, which provided a little information, but no
parents’ or siblings’ names. The first breakthrough came when I looked a bit more closely
at the enlistment papers. In 1869, the enlistment officer, for a reason known only to himself,
decided to add Andrew’s address to the top of the form in a margin. The form did not have
a space for the enlistee’s address. Had the officer not added this unrequested and unrequired
information, I would have had nothing. But there it was, “residence: 1110 Parrish Street.”
This was a familiar address. I had seen it many times while perusing the directories. John
W. Roat lived at that address for more than 20 years. Was John Andrew’s father?
Often in life a solution to one problem leads to another problem. When conducting
genealogical research, this happens time and again. Andrew lived at 1110 Parrish St. John
also lived at 1110 Parrish St. John is about 40 years older than Andrew. He certainly fits
the profile. But there’s a problem: Andrew listed his age at enlistment in 1869 as 21 years
old, which was then the minimum age for recruitment. He actually certifies his age as 21.
That puts his birthday around 1848. So I should be able to find him in John’s family on the
1850 census. It took a while but finally, I found John and his entire family in the 1850
census: wife Margaret, sons William and John, daughter Catherine…….and no Andrew.
Mind you, this is 2 years after Andrew’s birth, according to the enlistment papers. Could
Andrew have lied about his age in order to enlist? It was common back then. A trip back
to the microfilm was in order to look up John’s family in the 1860 census, as Andrew would
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certainly be listed there if he is John’s son. I don’t know how much time I spent looking
over the 1860 census. I do know that it was many hours over several weeks. I also
remember how sore my neck was after each session, leaning forward to catch any glimpse
at all of something that looked even remotely like John Roat. But the 1860 census was a
mess. Page after page looked like nothing more than squiggles and broken lines. It was
faded, patched, and blurred. It was useless; I couldn’t find John at all. By 1870, Andrew
was in the Army in Wyoming; he would not be found on the 1870 census in his father’s
house on Parrish St. A search of the city archives turned up interesting information about
Andrew, including a possible marriage no one knew about. But the city archives are quite
disorganized. They are meant mostly for people who already know events and dates and
want to view the original record. But if you don’t know the event or date, it is difficult to
find anything.
To make matters worse, the little information I had on Andrew was contradictory.
His enlistment papers from 1869 say he was 21 years old, putting his birth in 1848. A
marriage license from 1869 says he is 21 as well. The 1870 census also lists him as 21,
making his birth year 1849. The 1880 and 1890 census show him as 30 and 40 years old,
making his birth year somewhere in 1850. The 1900 census lists his birth date as November
1848 (on the same census, he misstates his son’s age by 3 years). His June 1909 death
certificate only says he is 59 years old. So was he born in 1848, 1849, or 1850? If he was
born in 1848 or 1849, he couldn’t be John’s son because he wasn’t on the 1850 census.
Was John an uncle? For 25 years this question, like a ghost, reappeared often in my mind.
One night in the mid-1980s I drove almost an hour to a Latter Day Saints library
(the Morman church holds the world’s largest genealogical library). I was there a total of
about 2 minutes when I found out that they had no Roats at all on record. It now reminds
me of one of my favorite movies, “Avalon,” a story about an immigrant family and one
older member’s ongoing effort to educate the children on the family history. Toward the
end, the old man is in a nursing home. He talks about how, a few years before, he went
back to the old neighborhood and so many of the places he lived in or frequented were now
gone. Finally, he found one place which still exists and he said “thank God, because I
almost thought that I never was.” That’s how I felt after finding nothing at all in the largest
genealogical library in the world, like we never was. After a year or so of looking, I thought
my search to be over. I had no other avenues to follow, no other ideas, and no one with a
greater amount of genealogical experience could give me any encouragement. I was
content to know that I had “probably” found one generation that had been previously
unknown, but unhappy that I could only make assumptions.
During the ensuing 25 years, I would often think about my research. The advent of
the internet looked promising. A few times I began a search, found little or nothing, and
suspended it yet again. Twice a year the Buddhist temple I attend conducts a ceremony
which is intended to remind us of our ancestors and to bestow our gratitude on them. Each
time over the years I would think about my research when these ceremonies were held. In
2010, my wife suggested that we hold a special ceremony just for my family, like her
mother does for her family in Korea. While I was writing down the basic information she
needed, I once again thought about my research and went back to the computer. What I
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found this time would shatter the wall which had been standing before me and laughing at
me for 25 years. The same Latter Day Saints database which had, 25 years before,
figuratively slapped me in the face, had been updated with over 9 million records from 19th
century Philadelphia. In addition, in the 5 years or so since I had abandoned my last search,
new technologies had been applied to old records, including damaged records like the 1860
census, making them accessible to researchers who had previously not been able to use
them. Suddenly, a wealth of information appeared before me like a beautiful rising sun,
illuminating the once dark recesses of the family’s attic. The 1860 census, the same one I
spent countless hours pouring over unsuccessfully, was electronically enhanced,
painstakingly indexed and transcribed, and made available on line. And there was John’s
family: John, his wife Margaret, his eldest son William, daughter Catherine, second son
John, and his youngest son, Andrew. Yes, our Andrew finally had parents and siblings.
These same records shed a new light on the family’s 19th century existence. Perhaps not a
flood, but a strong stream of new information allowed me to put together a hitherto
unknown portrait of a family.
The Roat family lineage goes back to Colonial America. In the early 1700s, most
colonists in Philadelphia were from England, but there were also a large number arriving
from present-day Germany, many of whom escaped the turmoil of The Palatine, or German
Pfalz. The Palatine encompassed an area of the Rhine River, roughly between Cologne and
the Swiss border. Frequent attacks by Louis XIV’s French army in the late 1600s and early
1700s, including the 9 Years War and the War of Spanish Succession, had left the area
devastated. The people were then assessed enormous taxes in order to pay for the damage.
To add insult to injury, several years of terrible weather destroyed the crops and caused
widespread famine. In the early 18th century, many thousands of Palatinate Germans came
to the new world. William Penn’s liberal laws and religious tolerance made Pennsylvania
a favored place for emigration. Thousands of Palatinates, now called Pennsylvania
Germans, arrived in Philadelphia, some moving west of the city to set up farms, some to
Germantown, and many others to the northern part of what we now call Old City, near 3rd
and Vine Streets, which is the same area in which our known family lived. In the next
chapter, we will be introduced to our colonial era ancestors.
My research has not ended, but I have exhausted the available resources. There
seem to be no other Roats in the 18th century to research, and there is no definite link to
any Roats in Europe. As time goes by, perhaps more source information will become
available but I do believe I have reached the end of the line. Many mysteries remain and
will never be solved, but we no longer have to shrug our shoulders when asked. If anything,
I think we now know more about our 18th and 19th century ancestors than most other people
know about their own. But only the official records remain of their lives. No witnesses
have survived to testify as to the character of any of our ancestors. No diaries or stories
exist telling us of their personalities, adventures, dreams, ambitions, struggles, or their
suffering. But, when we assemble the pieces, we uncover the story of a typical family which,
over many generations, remained close and supportive to one another. The 18th century
family, which had some economic means, took great pains to ensure that their children,
who were left without parents at early ages, were taken care of through guardianships. The
19th century family, who for unknown reasons had fewer economic resources, supported
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one another through trying times, and incurred the expense of burying their dead with
reverence and love, even though they were of limited economic means. They worked hard,
paid taxes, raised their children, stayed out of jail, and did so while living in small, cramped
rowhouse neighborhoods, with little privacy and without even the most basic modern
amenities like refrigerators, washing machines, or decent healthcare. They lived simple
lives of quiet dignity. They loved their children. They took care of their nephews, cousins,
and even cousins’ widows. They repeatedly suffered the premature deaths of family
members.
They were our family, and this is their story.
The dark area in the map above is the Palatinate area of Germany, from which the Roat family
apparently originated.
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2
Jacob & Thomas “We come in the age's most uncertain hour”
n late July of 1776, Jacob Roat lay dying in his house on the east side of 3rd
Street between Sassafras (now Race) and Vine Streets, dictating the terms of
his will. Around the corner lived a seamstress named Elizabeth Ross, “Betsy”
to her friends, with her husband John. A few blocks to the southwest, Jacob Graff was
renting a room to a young Virginian named Thomas Jefferson. Two blocks to the south
was the home of Benjamin Franklin. And all around the small city of Philadelphia, within
a short walk of Jacob’s home, lived those men who had just written, debated, ratified, and
signed the Declaration of Independence a few weeks earlier.
Regardless of its status as the new nation’s largest city, William Penn’s “greene
Country Towne” was small in 1776. While the borders of the city were South Street to the
south and Vine Street to the north, and the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers to the east and
west, most of the population of about 30,000 lived within 6 blocks of the Delaware. Though
it was the largest city in the colonies, it still had a small-town feel, as you could easily walk
from one end of the populated area to the other. Regardless of social status or income,
everyone lived close together and rubbed shoulders on the streets, in shops, and in pubs. It
was quite possible to pass Franklin, Ross, Jefferson, Adams, or Hancock while simply
walking the streets and carrying on your daily business.
Due to its rapid growth, Philadelphia in the mid-1700s was a place where a man
could do very well for himself. It’s unclear if Jacob arrived from Germany in 1739 or if he
started his business in that year. Jacob was a potter, and apparently quite a successful one.
He owned many properties, including 2 in Germantown which he purchased in 1775, and
his residence and place of business which stretched from 3rd St to 2nd St between Elm St.
(Now New St) and Vine St., the present site of the Painted Bride Art Center. The inventory
of his estate listed luxury items the likes of which most men of his time could not dream to
own. There was a silver watch, silver spoons and sugar tongs, Delft china, and walnut
furniture. There were decanters, wine glasses, 22 china tea cups and saucers, and several
tea kettles. It looks like he did a bit of entertaining. He also owned a large German bible
and a “sickly black mare.” The inventory shows he did not own a human being.
But in late July of 1776, Jacob found himself “infirm and weak in body” and
“considering the certainty of death.” He was also concerned with the “uncertainty of the
time,” an apparent reference to the fear that persisted even among the most ardent
supporters of independence of how the British would react to the declaration which was
signed a few blocks away just 3 weeks before. They were well aware of the British
occupation of Boston and the Patriot defeats in New York, and the city itself was blockaded
by 2 British warships for a short time; would the people of Philadelphia be the next to feel
I
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the wrath of the British military? A year later that answer would be “yes” when the British
marched into Philadelphia and occupied it for about 8 months.
Jacob’s home and workshop were located at #9, far right center above, on 3rd Street between Sassafras
(now Race) and Vine Streets.
Jacob was survived by his wife Susanna, adult son Christian, and minor children
Thomas, Jacob (who apparently also became a potter in partnership with a John Curtis),
and Rebecca. With 3 minor children, it is safe to assume (but by no means assured) that
Jacob was not very old. Christian was named one of the executors and received a double
share of the estate. He also received the property in which his father was living, across the
street from a property given to Thomas and Jacob. Thomas received all of his pottery tools.
Jacob’s widow Susanna received a property on Elm Street (now New Street) between 2nd
and 3rd Streets, around the corner from where she and Jacob lived. Rebecca received a
property in Germantown. The rest of the estate was distributed to all of the survivors. Jacob
left his survivors well cared for, though Susanna was to lose the property on Elm Street in
the event she would remarry, which I believe she did within about 3 years. Christian’s will,
written in 1779 and proved in 1781 after his death, lists a step-sister named Elizabeth
Wightman who was not listed in Jacob’s will. Jacob’s will references a property in
Germantown purchased from a Jacob Wightman. I don’t know if Jacob Wightman and
Elizabeth Wightman are related, but it’s possible that Susanna remarried a man named
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Wightman who had a daughter named Elizabeth. Christian does not list his mother as one
of his survivors, so she may have predeceased him.
Jacob’s son Thomas served in the Pennsylvania Militia during the American
Revolution. The militia, though, wasn’t as glamorous as it may sound. Organized in May
1777, service was compulsory for all able-bodied white males between 18 and 53 years of
age. Members served for brief periods only sporadically, some just 2 or 3 times for about
2 months each time over the 8 year course of the war. Rarely seeing any combat, they
mainly acted as guards and in supporting roles to the fighting troops. In September of 1777,
Washington’s troops were defeated at the Battle of Brandywine and again at Paoli, west of
Philadelphia. The British continued their advance to the north and east, with the intention
of surrounding the city from the north. It was then that Thomas was called for militia
service a second time (the first was in the spring of 1777). Immediately afterward was the
Battle of Germantown. It is known that some militia served in a fighting capacity during
that famous battle, but as records of the time do not indicate what service a militiaman
performed, there is no way of knowing if Thomas participated.
Jacob’s will was filed in April of 1777, so he lived less than a year after it was
written. We then fast-forward to April 1st 1799, 22 years after Jacob’s death. Someone
named Thomas Roat died “sometime since” and his 4 minor children petitioned the court
to appoint a new guardian. These children are Elizabeth and Jacob, both over 14 years of
age, and Margaret and Thomas, both under 14. Once again, it appears as if the father died
relatively young as he left 4 minor children, and it also appears as if their mother died
before him. The record doesn’t show why both parents died so young, but Philadelphia
suffered 5 deadly yellow fever epidemics in the 1790s; there was an especially vicious
epidemic from August to November, 1798, in which about 1,300 people died. The
orphaned children were living with an unnamed aunt. We don’t know for sure if this
Thomas was the son named in Jacob’s will, but there are a few interesting details to
consider:
• When Jacob died in 1777, he had 4 children. The oldest, Christian, was an adult.
The second oldest, Thomas, was a minor. In all likelihood, Thomas was an older
minor, close to adulthood, as he was second oldest to the adult Christian. If he were,
say, 17 in 1776 when the will was written, he’d be 40 in 1799, the perfect age to
have 4 minor children. It was a small city. While it’s possible there were 2 Thomas
Roats born close together in place and time, how likely is it?
• Jacob left his family his extensive real estate holdings. Thomas also died with
“considerable real estate” according to the 1799 proceedings. Using the same logic
as above, if there were, indeed, 2 Thomas Roats born close together in time in a
smallish city, how likely is it that both would own “considerable real estate?”
• It was customary to name sons after grandfathers. Thomas named his first son Jacob.
It must be noted, however, that not everyone followed this custom.
• Thomas’ will lists this younger Jacob as being “over 14 years of age,” putting his
date of birth around 1784. As we will see in the next chapter, we have a direct and
confirmed ancestor named Jacob who was born in 1784. Again, how many Thomas
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13
Roats were born close together in time and place, owned “considerable real estate,”
and had sons named Jacob who were born around 1784 in Philadelphia?
If this is nothing more than coincidence, then it would be a rather remarkable
coincidence. While there is no smoking gun which definitively ties Jacob and Thomas
together, there is enough strong evidence to safely make that assumption, and the 1799
court proceeding clearly ties Thomas to a later Jacob who is already confirmed to be a
direct ancestor. This would give us 10 generations of Roats in Philadelphia as of this
writing, going back to at least 1739.
But a puzzle remains. The 18th century Roats obviously were quite well off. Both
left real estate to their children and Jacob’s estate lists luxury items which common people
of the time did not own. As we will see, the 19th century Roats were of a far more modest
background. Rather than owners of multiple properties, they were barely above the status
of laborers. What changed? Where did the money go? Why is there such a dramatic
difference in the fortunes of the Roats between the 18th and 19th centuries? In 1819, the
American economy collapsed, causing widespread bankruptcies and an estimated 75%
unemployment rate in Philadelphia. It was the nation’s first great depression, and there
would be more. Did they suffer losses in these great economic catastrophes? Many people
did. In our next chapter, we’ll take the opportunity to meet our 19th century family.
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3
Jacob & John “I am a living legacy to the leader of the band”
hiladelphia in 1784 was 100 years old. Ten years earlier it had been the
second largest city in the British Empire, but it was now the new nation’s
largest city, its center of commerce, and its capital. It would be another 15
years before the capital would move to the new city of Washington, intended to be as
impressive as Paris. The revolution had just ended and the states were held together,
precariously at best, by the Articles of Confederation, a weak government which created
more problems than it solved. And the fear that a larger power, such as England, Spain, or
France, would attack and return the nation to colonial status hung oppressively in the air.
In 1784, Philadelphia was a city of about 40,000, including the suburbs. Many of
the neighborhoods that we know today, such as Frankford, Germantown, Manayunk,
Southwark, Northern Liberties, and Eastwick, were actually in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
It wasn’t until 1854 that the city annexed the suburbs, partly because it made law
enforcement more effective, but also because that’s where expansion was taking place and
the city didn’t want to miss out on all of the new tax revenues. Long before this annexation,
the population of the suburbs had far exceeded that of the city.
It was into this city and in this year that Jacob Roat was born, the son of Thomas
and grandson of Jacob. The earliest address we have for him is in 1816 at “Wissahiccon”
Lane which, as far as I can tell, was about 4 blocks north of Market Street and within a
block or 2 of the Delaware River. By 1818 he was living on Ridge Road (now Ridge
Avenue) just above Vine Street. Ridge crossed Vine Street diagonally at 9th Street in those
days, an intersection which no longer exists, having been removed during construction of
the Vine Street Expressway. He is listed as a cedar cooper, or a maker of barrels and other
round containers. As an artisan, he occupied a higher social level than a laborer. Later, he
took a second job for about 4 years as the doorkeeper at Commissioner’s Hall, a county
office building for the Spring Garden district. If this were the present day, we would assume
that this post might require political connections; was Jacob politically connected in some
way? We don’t know who he married, but he had at least 2 children who can be confirmed,
John and Josiah. I have found a census record from 1820 which I believe is his, though I
cannot be sure. It includes 5 children, 3 boys and 2 girls, all under the age of 15 with 3
under the age of 10. Census records of this time did not list the names of family members,
so his sons’ names do not appear in records until later, and his wife’s doesn’t appear at all.
Jacob died at the age of 69 on September 16, 1854 of chronic enteritis, an inflammation of
the small intestine usually caused by the ingestion of contaminated food or water. He was
buried at Union Methodist Episcopal Church Cemetery.
P
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Jacob Roat moved to this block of Ridge Avenue north of Vine St. in 1818. The Shaw building in the
center was originally a firehouse of the Fairmount Fire Co. This particular structure was not built
until after Jacob left the block, but another firehouse occupied the same site during Jacob’s
residence here. It cannot be determined if the structures on either side of Ridge Avenue were of
Jacob’s time, but these are the types of buildings that existed in his day, so it is entirely possible
that he lived in one of them. None of these buildings survive today. Photo taken in 1880.
Union Methodist Episcopal Church was started in 1802 by 50 disgruntled
parishioners from St George’s Church, one of the most historic churches in Philadelphia
today. It was located on 4th Street between Market and Arch in a building also used by the
University of Pennsylvania. Later, they built a new church on the same site. The cemetery
was originally located at 9th and Noble Streets until sometime around 1838 when urban
development forced its relocation to 10th and Washington Streets in south Philadelphia.
Sometime later it was removed completely and the bodies reburied elsewhere. Interestingly,
I have found another Roat who was buried in the same cemetery. She was married, first
name not legible but it looks like it might have said simply “Mrs,” lived in the same
neighborhood as Jacob, was only about 2 years older than Jacob, and died just a few years
before he did. These signs point to her being Jacob’s wife except for one very important
piece of evidence: she died on Christmas Day, 1850. 1850 was a federal census year. The
census was enumerated on August 16th, more than 4 months before her death. But the
census does not list a wife living with Jacob. This might be explained by her cause of death,
which was a wasting form of tuberculosis. She was, in all likelihood, sick for an extended
period of time. And, as tuberculosis is contagious and officials in Philadelphia at the time
often quarantined people with infectious diseases, it is possible that she was quarantined at
the time of the census. This is, however, entirely conjecture on my part. We will probably
never know if this woman was Jacob’s wife or just a coincidence of place and time.
By the time Jacob’s son John was born in 1809, Philadelphia was still the young
nation’s largest city (if you include the suburbs), though New York would overtake it a
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The Roat Family History
16
year later. It was also arguably the most attractive city in the nation with Americans and
foreigners alike celebrating its charms. Ten years before, the founding fathers couldn’t wait
to leave it for the new Paris on the Potomac 175 miles to the south. But the new Paris was
still a muddy backwater in 1809 and a move was afoot in the halls of congress to return the
capital to Philadelphia. It almost succeeded. It passed a first vote before being derailed by
southern lawmakers.
It is in the northern suburbs where John W. Roat and his family made their first
appearance. In 1837, at the age of 28, John Roat and his small family were listed for the
first time in the Philadelphia Directory in a house at 10th and Coates. They would soon
move to 11th and Vernon, where they would live from 1839 to 1853. It was in 1853 when
they purchased the house at 1110 Parrish Street, where John would live until his death in
1875. All of these houses were then in the northern suburbs of Philadelphia. Parrish Street
is just a block or 2 south of Girard Avenue and in 1853, 11th and Parrish was both to the
north and to the west of the heavily populated areas. Farther to the north and west of their
home were farms, but they would watch these farms quickly be developed into homes,
factories, and cemeteries. I have no official record of where John lived before 1837; he just
suddenly appears in our history.
John’s brother Josiah Roat was born in 1812, 3 years after John, and died on August
26th, 1881 of apoplexy. He was buried at Oddfellows Cemetery at 24th and Diamond Streets.
He married Sarah, who was born in New Jersey, and they had 6 children that I know of:
Edward, Thomas, Oliver, Elizabeth, Sarah, and Josephine, all born between 1837 and 1852.
Josiah was a plasterer. Josiah begins to show up in the Philadelphia Directories in 1835,
living in the house of his father Jacob, near present-day 9th & Callowhill Streets and within
a few blocks of John. On the 1850 census the roles are reversed; Jacob is listed as being 65
years old and living in Josiah’s house at 7th & Odgen Streets with Josiah’s wife and 5
children.
As previously mentioned, records from this time were lacking. While the
relationship between Josiah and his father Jacob has been clearly established in the
preceding paragraph, similar records linking John to Jacob and Josiah have not been found,
but there is plenty of other evidence which links them. For instance:
• John and Josiah were only 3 years apart in age.
• John and Josiah lived just 3 blocks apart during most of their adult lives.
• John’s son William became a plasterer, like Josiah, rather than a carter like
his father and brothers, as if he was apprenticed to his uncle.
• John’s and Josiah’s extended families lived within blocks of each other,
even moving from the older east side of the city to the newer west side at
about the same time.
• In 1890, John’s son Andrew, on the death of his 2nd wife Hannah, moved
into the home of Josiah’s widowed daughter-in-law, Elizabeth Roat, with
his young son Harry.
• And the most important piece of evidence: At Harry Roat’s funeral in 1951,
an Alberta Berbeck told Roat family members that she was Harry’s cousin
and that she and Harry lived together as children. It turns out that Alberta
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The Roat Family History
17
Roat Berbeck was Elizabeth Roat’s granddaughter, and Josiah’s great-
granddaughter. Further, she lived in Elizabeth’s house at the same time that
Andrew and Harry boarded there. So here we have John’s son Andrew and
grandson Harry living in the same house as Josiah’s great-granddaughter
Alberta and Alberta is calling Harry “cousin.” This confirms a close family
relationship between members of John’s and Josiah’s families. Utilizing all
of this evidence it is now easy to link the two as brothers, and confirm Jacob
as John’s father.
On the death certificate for John’s wife Margaret, issued upon her death from
cancer on November 8th, 1862, a rare event occurs: parents are listed. Margaret’s father
was William Conden (which likely was Condon) and her mother is listed as Elonor (surely
misspelled). Who was William Conden? I don’t know. But there are two I have found who
could be her father, though one is much less likely as he would have been 55 years old at
her birth, whereas the other would have been a more realistic 44. This second William was
Catholic, not very common in Federalist Philadelphia, and is buried at the second Roman
Catholic Church built in Philadelphia, Old St Mary’s on 4th Street near Walnut. Buried in
the same cemetery is the famous Revolutionary War hero Commodore John Barry.
Margaret was buried at Monument Cemetery, which would see many Roats pass through
its gates and rest in its soil, though only temporarily.
Monument stood on North Broad Street at Berks, the present home of Temple
University’s McGonigle Hall, an outdoor athletic facility, and parking lots. Monument,
opened in 1837, was the second of the many Victorian-styled cemeteries created as “rural
cemeteries,” that is, quiet places for the deceased to rest and for loved ones to visit and
have a picnic while they were there. Other rural cemeteries were Glenwood (which we will
see later), Mt Hope, Mt Peace, Oddfellows, and Laurel Hill. Only a few of them survive
today. It wasn’t long before these quiet places were surrounded by urban sprawl, and the
fact that they quickly filled to capacity and were no longer commercially viable doomed
them in the 20th century. In the 1950s, Temple University needed room to expand and saw
the now-filled and slightly neglected cemetery as an obstacle. Citing its neglect and its use
by juveniles as a nighttime hangout, they petitioned the city for its removal and eventually
won out over strong neighborhood opposition. Monument was emptied in 1956 and all of
the bodies, including dozens of Roats (many not mentioned in this history), were moved to
the Susquehanna Lawn of Lawnview Cemetery in Rockledge PA. The elaborate marble
gravestones and statuary, many of which were created by leading 19th century sculptors
and which gave the cemetery its name, were all dumped into the Delaware River near the
present site of the Betsy Ross Bridge and many are still visible at low tide. The new graves
at Lawnview were supplied with brass surface markers, but almost all of them have sunk
deep into the ground and have been overgrown by grass.
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The Roat Family History
18
Top Left: Monument Cemetery in its final days. Middle Left: Monument being emptied of bodies. Right:
Monument’s headstones strewn along the banks of the Delaware River, exposed by the low tide.
Bottom: Lawnview Cemetery; Susquehanna Lawn, where the Roat family plot was relocated from
Monument Cemetery. Most of the markers, including the Roat marker, have sunk below the surface of
the lawn and can no longer be seen.
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The Roat Family History
19
John was born in 1808 or 1809, Margaret in 1808. Both list Pennsylvania as their
places of birth in various census. They had 4 children that I know of:
1. William Condon 1834 – December 15, 1895
2. Catherine 1844 – January 21, 1921
3. John W. Jr. 1848 – December 31, 1880
4. Andrew 1850 – June 12, 1909
It is worth noting that all 4 of these children lived to be adults. While I always knew
that infant mortality was high in these times, I was still surprised to see the number of
deaths to infants and children. Case in point: of John’s children, William had at least 2 (and
I think 3) children die at very young ages, John Jr lost 2 or 3 (there is a question of how
many children he had, described later), and Andrew had 2 children die at childbirth or
shortly afterwards. From one family of 3 sons, at least 6 or 7 out of approximately 12
grandchildren died prematurely. Also worth noting is the 10 year difference between the
ages of John’s first and second children. It’s quite possible that there were one or more
other children born to them who did not survive.
John witnessed a major transformation in the city of his birth during his lifetime.
Philadelphia in 1809 was still very much enmeshed in an artisan economy. Workers like
his father plied their trades in small shops, with the owner living upstairs. The apprentice
system was still very much the norm. It was easy to walk from one end of the populated
area to the other. Businessmen, artisans, and laborers lived side by side, walking the same
streets and frequenting the same taverns and shops. By the time of John’s death in 1875,
the city was crowded and sprawled over 6 square miles, with railroads and streetcar lines
crisscrossing the landscape. Most American workers labored in factories owned by
corporations. Where a man once worked with a few other men and the owner in a small
shop, the norm had become a 10 – 12 hour day in a large factory with hundreds of co-
workers, strictly regimented by the clock, and motivated mainly by the fear of being fired.
In mid-century, working conditions were unsafe, on-the-job injuries were common and
sometimes crippling or fatal, and the worker often succumbed to diseases from working
with dangerous chemicals or breathing noxious fumes. As an example, young girls and
women were employed in the manufacture of matchsticks. The women needed to wet their
fingers with saliva often. Doing this transferred the chemicals used in the matchsticks to
their mouths, resulting in infections, loss of teeth, gum diseases, and eventually facial
disfigurement, oral cancers and brain damage. All from just making matches. Vacations
and sick days were almost unheard of. A working man wasn’t expected to live much past
60 in these days. Most people had moved out of what we now call Center City into newly
developed neighborhoods, which also started the process of residential segregation by
economic status.
Living conditions in the city deteriorated over the century. A rapidly expanding
population brought with it poor sanitation and overcrowding in the older, more affordable
neighborhoods. The many creeks which crossed the area were used as open sewers,
contributing to an increase in communicable diseases, especially tuberculosis and typhoid
fever. Water and food borne illnesses increased. It is in the mid to late 19th century when
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The Roat Family History
20
we see childhood mortality increase. Few people were immune from watching a child die.
In the late 19th century, the city began to cover the polluted creeks in brick and concrete,
converting them into underground sewer systems. These underground creeks/sewers are
still used today but now terminate at sewage treatment centers.
According to census records and Philadelphia directory listings for 1840 through
1870, John worked as a carter or driver, which was the mid-19th century equivalent of a
truck driver. Many carters moved goods to and from the rail yards and the river wharves.
In the 1860s, tax records show his occupation as “retail dealer,” “building and construction,”
and “demo.” This coincides with a building boom near the end of the Civil War. The type
of tax indicates that he was being paid for goods or services, as opposed to an income tax.
This all seems to indicate that he was self-employed and a bit of an entrepreneur. The 1860
census indicates that his real estate was valued at $3,000, but an average house in 1860
cost less than $1,000, and an average annual salary for a driver was about $500. $3,000
seems a bit high for an average driver, so it’s possible that he inherited some of his assets
from his father. As we remember from the previous chapter, John’s grandfather owned
“considerable real estate.” This possibility, however, is only conjecture.
Margaret died on November 8th, 1862 when her youngest child, Andrew, was just
12 years old. At this point, 18 year-old Catherine became the lady of the house and took
care of her father. In the 1870 census, she and John are the sole residents of 1110 Parrish
Street and 26 year-old Catherine is listed as a housekeeper. This was probably to be
expected, especially in a time when a 61 year-old man was expected to die soon anyway.
And die he did, on December 30th, 1875, at the age of 67 years and 2 months, of apoplexy.
At the time, apoplexy was used to describe a sudden death which was more than likely a
heart attack or stroke. John was also buried at Monument Cemetery.
John’s eldest child, William Condon Roat, was born in 1834 and worked his entire
life as a plasterer, as was Josiah Roat. It looks to me as if William was apprenticed to his
uncle Josiah. Sometime along the way he married Hannah, one year younger than her
husband, and had 6 children that I could find. Mary was born in 1855, but I have no record
of her whereabouts after the 1870 census. Margaret was born in 1861, married Lafayette
Woerner, had 8 children (one of which died at 9 months) and moved to Delaware. William
Condon Jr was born in 1858 and lived just 3 years and 10 months. Kate was born in 1867
and lived 18 years. Both were buried at Monument Cemetery. Emma W. was born in 1864
and Sarah C. in 1868, but no more information about them was found. William lived for
more than 20 years at 814 Enquirer Street, since renamed Marvine. Hannah died in 1881
from tuberculosis and was buried at Monument Cemetery. In 1885, in the same year that
William’s daughter Kate died, William moved into his brother Andrew’s house at 2214
Ingersoll Street, which is around the corner from Girard College, as the family continued
to move north and west. Along with him came his daughter Margaret and her growing
family. William died on December 15th, 1895 from hepatitis and nephritis. After burying
his wife and 2 children at Monument Cemetery, he was buried at Mt Peace Cemetery, 3111
W Lehigh Ave, another of the rural cemeteries of the time, but one that still exists.
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The Roat Family History
21
Second son John Jr was born in 1848 and was a carter like his father and also a
fireman. He apparently served in the cavalry in the Civil War, though he would have been
only 17 years old at war’s end. He married Amanda Wentz, who was one year younger. I
have found separate records for 2 girls, possibly twins, born in April of 1870. Adella is
listed on the 1870 census as being 2 months old, but not on the 1880 census. The only
explanation is that she died. Her twin Delia is not listed on the census, but there is a death
certificate for her dated July 12th of that same year. Because of the similarities in their
names and the lack of information, it’s possible that Adella and Delia are the same child,
but the name was misspelled at least one time. My guess is that they were the same child,
but we will never know. Bertha was born in 1871 but died 8 months later on November
26th. Annie C, 7 years old, and John W III, 4 years old, are listed on the 1880 census, but
John Jr died on December 31st of that same year, at just 32 years of age, from exhaustion.
Why exhaustion? John had a few scrapes with the law, apparently the result of drunkenness.
On July 30, 1868, he was arrested for “riotous conduct and insulting citizens.” When an
officer showed up, John pulled out a knife, threatened the officer with it, and was shot in
the face. The injury wasn’t serious. He then fled into a firehouse where the other firemen
attacked the officer. John was recaptured two days later. On July 24, 1871, John was again
arrested for public intoxication and creating a disturbance. Once again, he resisted arrest,
this time by running into a stable and using a pitchfork as a weapon. He was apprehended.
Perhaps exhaustion was a more polite term for the effects of alcoholism. He was buried at
Monument Cemetery. John III is listed as living in Philadelphia in 1920, along with his
wife, Anetta, and his mother, Amanda. Amanda’s name is now listed as Eads, as if she
remarried, and she was 70 years old. In 1924, she applied for her late husband’s Civil War
pension. Of the 4 or 5 children that John and Amanda had in just about 10 years, at least 2
died before they reached their first birthdays and a third possible child died sometime in
her 1st ten years. At least 2 of these children were buried at Monument cemetery. By 1880,
when she was just 31 years old, Amanda was a widow who had lost 2 or 3 children. The
late 19th century was cruel indeed.
John and Margaret’s daughter Catherine was born in 1844, and lived with her father,
unmarried, until his death in 1875 when she was 31 years old. I have found a record of a
Catherine Roat, born November 22, 1844 being married to a Charles Hinkle, born in 1840.
They had 1 child, Robert Franklin, who was born in 1882, when his mother was 38 and his
father was 42. I cannot prove conclusively that this is our Catherine, but the circumstantial
evidence is relatively strong. Our Catherine remained single until her father’s death in 1875
when she was 31 years old. This Catherine had only one child and not until 1882 when she
was 38 years old, which was highly unusual in the 19th century (it’s even unusual today).
This Catherine also lived in the same neighborhood as our Catherine. I think these two
Catherines were the same person. She died on January 29, 1921; her husband died just after
on March 21, 1921. Their son died in 1956.
Andrew, John and Margaret’s youngest child, is our direct ancestor and warrants
his own chapter.
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The Roat Family History
22
4
Andrew “The sun’s going down and the moon’s just holding its breath”
ndrew W. Roat was John and Margaret Roat’s youngest child. He was
probably born in November of 1850, just months after Millard Fillmore
became president upon the death of Zachary Taylor. His mother died when
he was 12. As a young boy, he witnessed the election of Abraham Lincoln, the secession
of the southern states from the union, and the Civil War. He first shows up in records on
the 1860 census as a 10 year old in John’s family of 4 children. On March 31st, 1869 there
is a marriage record for Andrew and Rosetta Snyder, 19, of Reading. While he can’t be
more than 18 years old, he states that he is 21. I am reasonably sure I have the same Andrew
W. Roat as he lists his occupation as “butcher,” the same occupation he used when he
enlisted in the Army. But did they really marry? It’s unclear whether this is a marriage
record or just a marriage license being issued. It’s possible that they obtained a license but
never went through with the marriage.
On October 15th of that same year, 6½ months after the marriage license record,
Andrew enlisted in the US Army and served from 1869 through 1874. Why would he do
that if he had just married? Did the marriage break up? Did they never marry? Was he
running away? Or did he need a good job in order to support his new wife? We’ll never
know. Rosetta disappears. I can find no trace of her anywhere. And, as we shall see later,
Andrew went to great pains to see that he would be buried with all of his loved ones,
including two wives, upon his death, but he didn’t include Rosetta in those plans. During
the next 5 years, while he is in the Army in Wyoming, there is an entry in the Philadelphia
Directories for an Andrew W. Roat, carter (the occupation he would use for the rest of his
life). Was this another Andrew W. Roat, or was this Rosetta living under her husband’s
name? Again, we’ll never know.
Eleven days after enlisting in the Army, Andrew was assigned to the 4th regiment
of the infantry and sent to Ft. Fetterman, Albany County, Wyoming Territory and arrived
on November 15th. Ft. Fetterman is in eastern Wyoming and was established just 2 years
earlier as a major supply post for the armies fighting the Indians in the post-civil war west.
The new transcontinental railroad ran just a few dozen miles to the south and a westward
migration along its route had begun. The incoming settlers and the existing Native
American tribes competed for the same land, with the predictable violent clashes ensuing.
The fort was located on a plateau above the North Platte River. In a letter to the Adjutant
General, Major William Dye described the post and surrounding country as “...situated on
a plateau...above the valley of the Platte, being neither so low as to be seriously affected
by the rains or snow; nor so high and unprotected as to suffer from the winter winds.” But
he was talking about the summer. The long winters were another story altogether. When
another commander took over in November 1867, just 2 years before Andrew’s arrival, he
A
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The Roat Family History
23
had a different assessment: ..."officers and men were found under canvas exposed on a
bleak plain to violent and almost constant gales and very uncomfortable..."
As an outpost of civilization on the Western frontier, the fort represented protection
and a haven to travelers and soldiers passing through. But Fort Fetterman was always
considered a hardship post by officers and men who were stationed there. On May 18, 1874,
Captain F. Van Vliet, of Company C, 3rd Cavalry, felt so strongly about the hardships on
his men that he wrote to the Adjutant General requesting his company be transferred
because there was "...no opportunity for procuring fresh vegetables, and gardens are a
failure. There is no female society for enlisted men...the enlisted men of the company are
leaving very much dissatisfied, as they look upon being held so long at this post as an
unmerited punishment...whenever men get to the railroad there are some desertions caused
by dread of returning to this post..."
Desertions were common, and the post frequently lacked adequate supplies and
equipment. Supplies had to be hauled from Fort Laramie to the southeast or from Medicine
Bow Station on the Union Pacific Railroad. Luxuries were scarce and pleasures were few.
However the soldiers found some diversion from the garrison life at a nearby establishment
known as the "Hog Ranch.”
A scene from Fort Fetterman today,
showing the bleak landscape in the
background.
At some unknown time Andrew was transferred to Ft Bridger, in the far
southwestern corner of Wyoming. Ft Bridger was a much older fort, having been founded
in 1843 as a privately owned supply post by the famous western mountain man Jim Bridger.
Ft. Bridger was conveniently located along the Oregon Trail where it branched off into 3
trails: one which continued to Oregon, another which ended in northern California, and the
Mormon trail which went to Salt Lake City and Utah territory. It was acquired by the Army
in 1858 and converted to military use.
The fort’s location was head and shoulders above Fetterman’s and considered the
garden spot of the west. It was described by pioneers passing through as "a pretty place to
see in such a barren country." "Perhaps there is a thousand acres of level land covered with
grass, interspersed with beautiful stony brooks and plenty of timber, such as it is -- quaking
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The Roat Family History
24
asp.” Another described the fort’s location "in a handsome and fertile bottom of the small
stream on which we are encamped. The bottom produces the finest qualities of grass, and
in great abundance." In addition, "The water of the stream is cold and pure, and abounds
in spotted mountain trout, and a variety of other small fish. Clumps of cotton-wood trees
are scattered through the valley, and along the banks of the stream." Yet another describes
“a beautiful valley of fertile soil." "In this valley, there is a fort called Fort Bridger, after
the old pioneer who built it and lives there near where we have camped." "This valley is
certainly very rich and affords the best of grass. It is watered by 7 beautiful streams running
through it, called Rushing creeks. These streams are from one to 3 feet deep of clear cold
water, just from the mountain tops." I am hoping that Andrew was at Ft Bridger long
enough to appreciate its splendor and natural beauty.
Original army
buildings at Fort
Bridger.
Fort Bridger in a
woodcarving from
1873, about the
time when Andrew
was stationed
there. Contrary to
Fetterman’s
bleakness, notice
the mountains and
abundance of
trees.
His army record doesn’t show what he did in Wyoming, but the 4th Infantry was
active. They spent quite a bit of their time escorting wagon trains and payroll deliveries,
frequently having to fight off attacks from Native American raiders. As Andrew listed his
occupation at the time of his enlistment as “butcher,” it’s possible he was involved with
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The Roat Family History
25
providing food for the fort. About 18 months after his discharge, some members of the 4th
Infantry fought at the Battle of the Little Big Horn.
Andrew served his entire enlistment, 5 years, in Wyoming Territory and was
honorably discharged as a private in October 1874. This says a lot about our intrepid hero.
Andrew’s service record would be called a spreadsheet today. On his page are about 40
names. Of those 40, I would estimate that about half deserted. Many were returned to
service, and a few deserted a second time. Some never returned. Andrew stayed and served
his entire hitch.
Andrew’s next appearance in the Philadelphia Directory doesn’t occur until 1878,
4 years after his discharge. Perhaps he took his time coming back, or maybe he lived in his
father’s house on Parrish Street for a while. Oddly, his occupation that year is “oysters,”
and then he vanishes for a year. By 1880, he is back, he calls himself a “driver,” and he is
married to Elizabeth (who he apparently called “Lizzie”) and living at 2214 Ingersoll Street,
around the corner from Girard College, yet farther north and crossing Girard Avenue for
the first time. Elizabeth was born in 1845 in Bucks County, PA. I don’t know anything else
about her except that she died on January 18th, 1884 of “anaema.” She was buried at
Monument Cemetery, but would not remain there long.
On December 24th, 1884, Andrew married Hannah Harding at the 19th Street
Methodist Episcopal Church. She was the daughter of Irish immigrants (her father’s name
was Alexander) who came to America in the 1840s, possibly as a result of the Irish potato
famine. Hannah was 28 years old, born in Philadelphia, and was the youngest of 6 children.
Her mother, whose name I don’t know, apparently died before Hannah turned 4 years old.
In 1880, Hannah worked as a live-in servant for a family headed by Francis Saylor, an
engineer who co-owned a bridge building firm; she was apparently one of 3 servants in the
household. Shortly after she and Andrew married they moved to 1518 North Opal Street.
On July 27th, 1885, Andrew and Hannah welcomed their first child into the world, Edward.
But times were cruel, and Andrew was not spared the fate of his brothers. Edward lived
only 2 weeks and 1 day and died from inanition. In a word, this means starvation. I find it
hard to believe that they would allow their son to die of starvation, and the fact that Hannah
successfully nursed her second son just one year later makes me believe that perhaps
Edward had an underlying condition which prevented him from properly digesting and
absorbing nourishment. Andrew purchased a double plot at Glenwood Cemetery at 27th
and Lehigh and buried Edward there. Sometime later, I don’t know when, he moved
Elizabeth’s body there from Monument Cemetery. By this time, the area around Monument
had become densely populated with factories and homes and the once-rural cemetery had
lost its luster. Monument was no longer regarded as a nice place to bury your loved ones
and predictions of its demise had already started.
I find it interesting that Andrew moved Elizabeth from troubled Monument
Cemetery into a plot at newer and nicer Glenwood which was also intended for himself,
his second wife, and the rest of his family. It indicates to me that Andrew was a man who
loved his wives and children. He did not have old fashioned marriages of convenience. He
had genuine and deep feelings for those around him, so much so that he wanted to be with
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The Roat Family History
26
them in death and in the proper surroundings. Further, Andrew listed her name in the
cemetery record as “Lizzie” rather than the more formal “Elizabeth” in an apparent show
of affection.
One year after Edward’s short life ended, on July 31st, 1886, Harry Ebert Roat was
born. Harry later married Marion Amelia Richards and they would together expand the
family from just 2 people to well over a hundred today.
On June 14th, 1890, Hannah delivered a stillborn child, an unnamed girl, and died
the same day from "puerperal eclampsia resulting from renal disease." This is a disorder
which occurs during childbirth and is caused by extreme high blood pressure. It results in
convulsions and multiple organ failure and was a leading cause of death in women of the
19th century. She and her unnamed daughter were buried next to Edward in the same plot
at Glenwood Cemetery at 27th and Ridge Avenues in north Philadelphia where Elizabeth
was also moved to. And in the course of 6 short years, and by the age of just 40, Andrew
suffered the deaths of 2 wives and 2 children. He never remarried.
Later, Andrew would also be buried at Glenwood. When Glenwood was emptied
in 1938 for the city's first housing project (also called Glenwood), the family was moved
to Section T, Lot 154, graves 1 & 2 at Glenwood's new location in Broomall, where Harry
and Marion were later buried. Harry’s burial filled the original plot to capacity and the
neighboring plot was later purchased for Marion. The stone is on Marion’s plot and only
lists Harry and Marion. All of the others were buried in the unmarked plots to the
immediate left of Marion and remained anonymous to passers-by for over 100 years. In
2011, 102 years after Andrew’s death, the Department of Veterans Affairs installed a
granite military headstone on his grave.
After Hannah’s death, Andrew lived in 1893 and from 1897 to 1899 in the same
house as Elizabeth Roat, widow of Oliver, and daughter-in-law of Josiah. There are a few
“missing years” when he’s not listed in the directories, but that’s not unusual when
someone was living in someone else’s house. Oliver was born in 1843 the son of Josiah,
John’s brother. That would make Andrew and Oliver cousins. (Coincidently, Elizabeth’s
brother William Geary married Oliver’s sister Josephine) This house was at 1512 North
20th St, just 2 blocks from Andrew’s former house. It is known that Harry lived in this
house as well, but it has been suggested that he did not live there for all of the time his
father was there. Harry told some of his children that after his mother’s death he lived for
a time with an "Aunt Ide" in Roxborough. Aunt Ide was, according to Harry’s wife Marion,
her aunt Ida Richards Bittel. I have found no evidence for any of this, and I don’t know
how the Roat family and the Richards family could have crossed paths in 1890, 17 years
before Harry and Marion married. Marion’s father lived at least 12 blocks from Harry’s
father, and I can’t find Ida or her husband at all until 1892 when they were living in
Brooklyn, where they stayed at least until 1910. I believe the inaccurate Roxborough
reference comes from the location of their home at the time near Ridge Ave in North
Philadelphia, and is confused with the Ridge Ave in Roxborough. So who was Aunt Ide? I
don’t know if I will ever be able to unwrap this mystery.
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It is known that Andrew and Harry remained close. The 1900 Census lists the father
and son living together in a boarding house, where young Harry is listed as being employed
as an errand boy. Andrew continued to work as a driver, and even drove a handsome cab
at one time (according to Harry, he drove wealthy men to the brothels on Allegheny
Avenue). Near the end of his life, Andrew suffered mouth cancer and had surgery to treat
it. It is said that he lived for a while with Harry and Marion, but the directories list him as
having his own home. He died on June 12, 1909 at 9am of "tubercular caries of spinal
column." Basically, he had tuberculosis which went untreated and infected his spinal
column. It can be very painful and cause spinal deformities. The hunch on the fictional
Hunchback of Notre Dame was caused by this. Andrew probably had a cough and pain in
his back, and did not know that they were related. His death certificate lists his address as
"from the street" as if he was homeless, but he had an address in the directories and a son
who cared at least enough to arrange a proper funeral at a funeral home. I believe that the
people who wrote the death certificate just did not know where he lived. He died at
Philadelphia General Hospital after a 2 day stay.
And so passed the last of the 19th century Roat family. The average family member
born in the 19th century had a less than 50% chance of surviving to adulthood. Monument
and Glenwood cemeteries were filled with the bodies of Roats, none of whom lived to 70
years of age, few of whom even reached 60, and many of whom died as children. And as
the sun set on this chapter of the Roat family, one could not help but wonder if the 20th
century would be just as cruel as the century just ended.
The plots at Glenwood Memorial Gardens in Broomall, PA. On the left is the military memorial for Andrew
installed by the Department of Veterans Affairs in 2011, 102 years after his death. There is another unmarked
plot on the left, outside of the photo. These 3 plots hold Andrew, Elizabeth, Hannah, Edward, Hannah’s
stillborn girl, Harry, and Marion. All but Harry and Marion were first buried at Glenwood’s original location
in North Philadelphia between 1884 and 1909 and moved here around 1937.
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5
Epilogue “We’re captive on a carousel of time”
he moon didn’t need to hold its breath for long. The hardship of the 19th
century evolved into a 20th century of success. Harry and Marion had 10
children. These 10 children had 34 children among them, all of whom
reached adulthood. Compare that with John and Margaret’s family. They had 14
grandchildren that I know of, yet at least 7 died before reaching adulthood, 5 as small
children or infants and 2 as teenagers.
But from the birth of Harry and Marion’s first child in 1907, the family increased
from just these 2 to well over 100 by the time of this writing in 2011. I haven’t counted,
but it’s probably around 120. And we are no longer confined to the cozy environs of the
Quaker city, having crossed the borders into New Jersey and Delaware before traveling
farther to Boston, Chicago, Tupelo, Seattle, and Southern California, among other places.
So, really, what has changed? We were an average American working family in the
past, and we’re pretty average now. The times have changed dramatically and we have
ridden the tides of change. We still appreciate education, we still work hard, we still raise
our children, we still live by our values. Our ancestors have proven themselves to be a close
knit group. Upon the death of a parent, the surviving parent would move in with one of
their children. When Andrew’s wife Hannah died, Andrew moved in with his cousin’s
widow, who surely needed the extra income and in return provided a mother figure for his
son and the daily necessities of home life. Josiah took his nephew under his wing and taught
him the plastering trade.
Our ancestors did nothing which was especially memorable. No one became a
senator, there were no wealthy industrialists, no public monuments were erected to anyone
in our lineage. They were working people who labored unceasingly under dreadful
conditions for little reward. They watched helplessly as their children died, one after the
other, before they could even escape from diapers. They suffered the deaths of spouses at
untimely ages. Yet amid their suffering they carried on with their lives, undaunted,
hardened by the punishment hurled at them by life but not defeated. I am reminded of John
W Roat III, and finding his census record from 1920. There, 40 years after the death of the
father he never knew, John lived with his mother, taking care of her and raising his daughter.
After 40 years as a widow, Amanda was working as a nurse and providing extra family
income. And the mother and son, shattered 40 years before by the untimely death of their
husband and father, were still caring for each other and raising another generation. It
doesn’t stop. It just keeps on going…….
T
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6
DNA “We’re all gonna be here forever”
n Summer of 2016 I added a new chapter to my genealogy research. I submitted
my DNA for analysis. I took two tests, Autosomal and Y-DNA.
Autosomal DNA is what we talk about when discussing chromosomes. We all
know about the double helix and how the mother’s and father’s DNA combine to create
the DNA of the child. If mom has brown eyes and dad has hazel eyes, one of the genes will
win out over the other and you’ll get one or the other color. Or their combination could
lead to a third color. And this happens in every generation from the first to the present.
Autosomal DNA takes all these generations into account and keeps a record, so to speak,
of every ancestor you had. It can tell you about your DNA from far longer ago than you
can imagine, not just about the last few generations.
My mother was 100% German. As far as I can tell, the Roats were heavily German
and Irish, with a bit of English thrown in from the Richards side. So I was not surprised to
find that my DNA showed a great deal of British Isles and Western Europe (you won’t find
French, German, Belgian, etc in autosomal DNA, just regions). What did surprise me was
that it only came to about 75%. Where was the other 25%?
About 17% was Italy/Greece. Another 5% was Spain/Iberian peninsula. And there
were traces from the Middle East and Northern Africa. All told, about 24% came from the
Mediterranean. Does it sound familiar? This is the exact area of the Roman Empire. It made
me want to buy a toga. And considering I had DNA from all of those areas, it is less likely
from a slave family, who didn’t get to go anywhere, and is more likely from the family of
a soldier, official, or business person, all of whom could have easily travelled to all of these
areas and over multiple generations. Eventually, many Romans settled elsewhere, such as
in Germany, where the Roats came from. A first cousin on my mother’s side tested 95%
Western Europe, so this Mediterranean component appears to be from the Roat side.
The second test, Y-DNA, is for men only. Y-DNA is passed from father to son only,
and it passes almost unchanged from generation to generation. It’s useful for finding where
your specific family lineage originated and for finding relations who have also submitted
their DNA. I found out that everyone is part of a haplogroup, which is a group of people,
maybe a group of tens of millions, who all come from a common ancestor in pre-historic
times.
The Roat haplogroup is RM-269, which is the largest haplogroup in Western
Europe. We originated 25,000 years ago in an area which is now northern Iran and
Turkmenistan. They migrated east through the Caucuses, southern Ukraine, the Balkans,
Italy, Spain, and eventually up into Germany and the British Isles.
I
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30
In time, as more men submit to Y-DNA testing, I’m hoping that we will find men
who more closely match our specific DNA profile. Those matches could help to determine
more about our family’s origins.
All in all, I was disappointed in the results of the testing. I expected more
information. Hopefully, this will bear more fruit as time goes by and more people are tested.
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31
7
The Records “I will always be telling this story”
A selection from Jacob’s 1776 handwritten will in which he mentions “the
certainty of death” and the “uncertainty of the time.”
Jacob’s estate inventory from 1777. This selection includes money, a
German bible, a feather bed with bedclothes, and a silver watch.
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Andrew’s death certificate indicating his cause of death as "Tubercular Caries of
Spinal Column," and a contributing cause of “Pulmonary Tuberculosis.”
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Elizabeth’s death certificate. She and Andrew were married for about 4 years and
apparently had no children.
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Hannah’s death certificate indicating the cause of death as "Puerperal Eclampsia
resulting from Renal Disease." She and Andrew were married for 4½ years and had 3
children, though 2 died at or shortly after birth. Only Harry survived.
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Andrew’s Army enlistment papers. The following are indicated:
• Description: Hazel eyes, dark hair, dark complexion, 5 feet 6 ½ inches tall
• Address in the top margin
• Signature
• Hand written statement certifying that he is 21 years of age
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Outside cover of Andrew’s enlistment papers
Selection from the 1900 census showing Andrew and Harry living in a boarding house at
1027 Reno St. This address was between 10th and 11th Streets, about 2 blocks south of
Girard Avenue. It is also around the corner from 1110 Parrish St, the home in which
Andrew lived as a child.
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The Roat Family History
38
Subtitles “I want to tell you…”
For those of you wondering about the subtitles I chose for the chapters, here is an
explanation. They are all song lyrics.
Title Page
“The search has begun; I’ve come to see where my beginnings have gone.”
“Looking Into You” by Jackson Browne.
I’ve been using this on the family website since its inception in 1997 (or so) as I think it is
the perfect description of genealogical research.
Family Tree Page
“Follow the yellow brick road”
“Follow the Yellow Brick Road/We’re Off to See the Wizard” by Yip Harburg & Harold
Arlen
My moment of silliness. Just follow the yellow squares to trace our direct ancestors.
Timeline Page
“Ain’t it funny how time slips away?”
“Funny How Time Slips Away” by Willie Nelson. I’m not a big Willie Nelson fan but my
father was. So this is for him. Otherwise, I would have chosen “Who Knows Where the
Time Goes?” by Sandy Denny
Chapter 1: Prologue
“Come on the amazing journey and learn all you should know”
“Amazing Journey” by Pete Townsend (The Who), from “Tommy”
It’s how I saw my research. I have always believed that we should all know where and
from whom we came. The more you know about your past, both individually and
collectively, the better able you are to live your present and future. I have always had a
fascination with history in general and my own history in particular so, for me, this was
truly an amazing journey.
Chapter 2: Jacob & Thomas
“We come in the age’s most uncertain hour”
“American Tune” by Paul Simon
Our story starts just 3 weeks after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. The
British had occupied Boston and were now marching on New York. While the Patriots had
squeaked out an improbable victory in Boston, the British were kicking Washington’s butt
all through New York and into New Jersey. Even Jacob’s will mentioned the “uncertainty
of the time.”
Chapter 3: Jacob & John
“I am a living legacy to the leader of the band”
“The Leader of the Band” by Dan Fogelberg.
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At the time that I chose this subtitle, John was the earliest known Roat ancestor, so I
considered him the leader of our band. I have since discovered 3 more generations so I now
consider Jacob, Thomas, Jacob, and John to be the leaders of our band. And that means
that we all are living legacies of Jacob & Susanna, and Thomas, and Jacob, and John &
Margaret, and Andrew & Hannah, and Harry & Marion, and……….
Chapter 4: Andrew
“The sun’s going down and the moon’s just holding its breath”
“Mexican Home” by John Prine
The 19th century wasn’t pleasant. No one in our line lived long. No one lived to 70, and
few lived to 60. The women were particularly affected. John’s wife Margaret died at the
age of 54, William’s wife Hannah died at less than 50 and his daughter at 18, Andrew’s
wife Elizabeth died at 39 and his wife Hannah died while giving birth at the age of 33. And
we’ve already discussed the high mortality rate among the children. As the sun went down
on the 19th century, it did indeed look dark, and one could not help but wonder at the time
if the future would just bring more suffering. So it was hold your breath, cross your fingers,
and hope that the next century would at least be marginally better.
Chapter5: Epilogue
“We’re captive on a carousel of time”
“Circle Game” by Joni Mitchell
I was looking for something a little less obvious, but it works well in describing the
unending progression of generations. As difficult as the 19th century was, we had a pretty
good 20th century and we’ve since moved on from there.
Chapter 6: DNA
“We’re all gonna be here forever”
“The Family Reserve” by Lyle Lovett
You try coming up with a song about DNA or genetics. Can’t be done. But DNA is forever.
Or at least 25,000 years. So far.
Chapter 7: The Records
“I will always be telling this story”
“The Story” by Shawn Colvin
The records are all we have that can still tell the story. Luckily, they always will.
Subtitles
“I want to tell you...”
“I Want to Tell You” by George Harrison.
The next line is “My head is filled with things to say.” I found all of this stuff and I wanted
to share it. I even wanted to share the reasons for the subtitles.
Map
“All these places have their moments”
“In My Life” by John Lennon
If I had a favorite song, this might be it.