Joseph and Sarah Ann Votaw

Joseph and Sarah Ann Votaw are my great-great-grandparents. They were pioneers in mid-America in the mid-19th century, and their story is fascinating.

Top row, left to right: Oscar (age 17), Albert (21), May (15). Bottom row: Elmer (12), Joseph (46), Merritt (4), Sarah Ann (43), and Irvin (10). The picture was taken on the day that their farm in Oskaloosa was sold. They went to town, bought new suits of clothes, and moved (in a covered wagon drawn by four horses) to Lawrence, Kansas.

When I was a young boy, our family attended First Friends Church, on the corner of Washington Ave. and Philadelphia St. in Whittier. Across Washington Avenue lived the oldest people I’d ever seen: Merritt and Anna Votaw. We called them Uncle Merritt and Aunt Anna. Actually they were my grandfather’s aunt and uncle. They went to our church, so they were a familiar sight.

As he got older, Merritt developed an interest in family history, and he self-published a book that contained the Votaw genealogy and several chapters of stories about our history. He then went to everyone in the family and told them that they needed to buy copies! My dad bought five: a copy for each of us kids, and one for himself.

The picture at left is the first one in the book, right after the table of contents. It’s a picture of Merritt’s family – his parents, brothers, and sister. Joseph and Sarah Ann were his parents, and Elmer (my great-grandfather) was his older brother. The picture was taken in 1882 in Oskaloosa, Iowa.

Uncle Merritt’s book is full of stories of his growing-up years, and from these stories we learn a few things about Joseph, Sarah Ann, and their family.

This is a four-generation picture. The people in it are Sarah Ann Votaw, her son Elmer Votaw, his daughter Vera Boyce, and her son Dillard Boyce. The picture was taken in 1920.

A Sketch of the Life of
Joseph and Sarah Ann Votaw
Written for their 60th Anniversary of their Wedding
November 7th, 1920

One of the greatest forces in American history is the frontier. The fact that more than five-sixths of the present United States, was at the birth of the Republic a vast wilderness, untamed and for the most part unexplored, is perhaps the most significant thing in our history.

Here were forces to combat and overcome – wild beasts, unchartered streams, dense forest, vast plains, fierce aboriginees, difficult mountains, separation from the markets of the world, – forces which called for resourcefulness, daring, enterprise, initiative.

Because of these forces and the demands they made on the manhood and womanhood of the pioneers, the frontier has been called the greatest Americanizing force. It stripped a man of the customs and habits and institutions of his inheritance. It moulded English, French, German, Irish, Scotch and Colonist into a common type- the typical American, independent, courageous, thrifty, neighborly.

Joseph Votaw and his wife, Sarah Ann, were among the frontiersmen of their day. Reared on the frontier of Ohio and Indiana, and living for the greater part of their early and middle married life either on the frontier or in the newer settlements of Michigan, Iowa, Kansas and Oklahoma, they faced the problems, and made the gains, and acquired the characteristics of the best of those who constituted the vanguard of advancing industry and democracy.

When they were born, only twenty-six states had been admitted to the Union and when they began their united life, sixty years ago today, twelve of our present states were not admitted. The first Atlantic cable had not been laid, and there was no railway to the Pacific. Such modern devices and machines as binders, reapers and harvesters, ice-making machines, gas-makers, electric dynamos, electric lights and electric railways had not made their appearance; to say nothing of linetype, X-Ray, wireless, automobile, submarine, flying ships and moving pictures. What a marvelous period of history through which they have passed!

During the early childhood of Joseph Votaw his father, Isaac Votaw, moved from Ohio to Indiana, Wabash County, on the Wabash River. Only two other families, that of John Votaw and Joseph Votaw, were in the settlement, all living in log cabins. Within two years a log cabin Quaker meeting house had been constructed of which Nathan Macy was the minister. At no great distance was an Indian village. The conduct of the whites, all of whom were Quakers, was such that the friendship of the Indians was won, and there was little fear of molestation by them. Often the Indians would beg to be allowed to drop in and warm themselves before the big winter fire and more than once they brought presents of game killed in the chase. The children of the whites sometimes went to their village and mingled in play with the children of the redskins.

The Votaw family witnessed the sad scene of their removal beyond the Mississippi River into the Indian Territory which was roughly defined in 1834. Many Indians bade farewell to their friends with profuse tears.

The Votaws were true pioneers in western Indiana. The wilderness flanked the little clearing on all sides and many times the long nights were made eloquent with loneliness by the howling of the wolves or the barking of the foxes. Wild turkeys, squirrels and raccoons were much in evidence.

An incident occurred shortly after their arrival which is evidence of the frontier conditions under which they lived. When father went to the grist mill to take some grain. The distance was so great a week was required to complete the trip. One night while he was absent, the little log cabin with its improvised door — a quilt hung from the top — was visited by his majesty a lion, which growled and pawed most frightfully. Doubtless he would have entered had it not been for the big log fire which roared in the spacious fire place — thanks to the industry of the boys.

More than once in those pioneer days were the wild beasts kept away from the home at night by fire.

After about a decade in Indiana, the family pushed on to the western Michigan. Some settlements had been made here but it was still the frontier and living conditions were much the same as in Indiana.

Some years later came into Michigan at no great distance from the Votaw home, one, Nathan Shaw and family. The third child of eleven, a daughter, Sarah Ann by name, was destined to play an important role in that part of American history which pertains to those assembled here this afternoon. Not a part that men write books about or that school children recite on special occasions, but the part which is played in weaving the fabric of human development in its plain and sturdy pattern — the most fundamental, the most foundational and the most important of all parts.

When the days of mature young manhood were ripe, Joseph Votaw considered it proper to localize his affections. He was materially aided in this project by a good lady who, at least for this occasion, practiced divination. Following the attendance of the midweek meeting at the local Quaker meeting, this seer looked at young Joseph and said,”Joseph,I saw thy wife today.” What the response was has not been preserved in the traditions of the family, but doubtless the words were not taken seriously for it appears that Joseph was not at church that day.

It was not long, however, before Joseph made the acquaintance of the beautiful young school teacher concerning whom the prophetess had spoken. Those who have known her through the years that have flown so swiftly since, and we who have known her only in the mellow years of advanced age — always tender, gentle, kind, her face the mirror of a heart of pure gold, still beautiful, still strikingly uncommon; we know full well that, when a girl of nineteen summers, the flush of youth and strength and hope and pure desire on her features, she was as lovely as Dante’s Beatrice.

Joseph loved her from the beginning and soon became an ardent suitor. She loved too, for Joseph was encouraged and in this there was never the slightest view of deception. Think back, Grandpa, to those days of sixty odd years ago and, if at any time you see Dan Cupid’s arrows flying in some confusion, remember the days of your wooing!

One bright sunny first day Joseph and Sarah Ann went horseback riding on the old road that led out into the great west. The woodland stretched in boundless reaches on either side, broken only here and there by the clearing of a settler. Tall pines lifted themselves in primeval splendor and giant oaks spread their branches in dense pillows of green foliage, their limbs making perfect highways for squirrels in their sport. At length the steeds which at first had been urged on to a smart gait, dropped into a saunter. No noise disturbed, except the soft clatter of hoofs and the steady pound of excited hearts. The setting was perfect. In what words the momentous question was phrased or in what words the answer was given, I know not. One thing is certain, henceforth the way led unmistakingly to the altar.

On the seventh day of the eleventh month, l86O, at the close of the midweek meeting in the little country Quaker meeting house at Mill Creek, they were wedded after the fashion of Quakers.

Then retiring to the bride’s home in a three-seated carriage a sumptuous dinner awaited them, and after the fashion of those days, an equally elaborate “infare” was given at the groom’s home the following day.

The little frame house of two rooms received them about the third month after and the steady pace was struck for the long journey. Here transpired those wonderful days — wonderful in the life of every rightly mated pair — when the first money is earned, and the first possessions acquired and the first child comes to bless and glorify the union. Days of hard labor, of struggle, of self denial, of path breaking; days too of consolation and sweet sympathy, of kind companionship and boundless hope.

Soon the blast of war blew and up from the country side and out from the village and towns went men, young and old, to fight for the Union and to destroy slavery.

There was no selective draft, no effort to spare those on whom a wife or child was dependent for support. Only one escape was possible, namely, to hire a substitute.

When the summons came to Joseph Votaw, he journeyed forty miles to Kalamazoo, the place of draft, his heart was heavy for he had left behind a wife and a three months old baby. As he passed out of the office of the rude official, several men stepped forward and offered to go in his place for the sum of $300. His good neighbor, Squire Powell, staked him for the sum and he returned home to pursue his accustomed tasks. But he was a loyal son of the Union and never failed to give its cause his support.

When a short time after this he moved out Into Iowa, he carried a flag fastened to his harness. More than once he was commanded by southern sympathizers to pull it down. He refused to do it, however, even under heavy threats.

At least once in those years his loyalty to the flag took precedence over his adherence to the Quaker tradition of non-resistance. It was in 1876 when Blaine was running for the President. Politics were bitter for the rancor of war had not died out. The Votaws had a flag which they kept at full mast day after day. This offended a neighbor who muttered and grumbled and ever threatened him. At length the man lost, or claimed to lose, some turkeys and with an effrontery that was not uncommon in those days, he boldly accused Joseph Votaw of stealing them. The reply was a fist blow which landed the man flat on his back in the road. E. J. Votaw was witness to this and Sarah Ann called frantically from the kitchen window in words of caution and rebuke.

Amusing incidents have survived in memory of those who have been in touch with the family.

It is reported that when Joseph Votaw and family were on their way to Iowa one afternoon they crossed a cow which had strayed from the herd on its homeward tourney. He stopped her and constrained her to furnish milk for their evening meal. That night they camped in the old bed of the Mississippi River. While eating supper a heavy wind and rain came up and put out the light and caused much confusion. Mother Votaw said, “Now that’s what we get because Pa took that milk.”

At another and much later date when the family was moving from Kansas in the fall, an incident occurred which gave the boys considerable fun. The heavy rains had made the roads so bad four horses could not pull the wagons very well. The father bought a fifth horse and later discovered that he had made the purchase on Sunday. Now few things were worse than transacting business on Sunday, but the boys thought it a great joke and teased the father no little.

There were many things for which the family was noted. Grandma, if I may now adopt the more familiar name, was known as a superior cook, an immaculate housekeeper, a friend to everybody and a seller of the best butter in the countryside. Grandpa was noted for work — hard work, long hours, continuous from year’s beginning to year’ s ending. Often the cultivators or seeders were going until late in the night. Grandpa was also noted as a keeper of fine horses. He was not satisfied if he did not have the best in the community. He was a good judge of horses and a successful breeder. These interests led him to qualify for expert veterinary advice, and he was often called on to go on long journeys to doctor such animals.

He was likew1se a skilled dehorner of cattle. He boasted that he could dehorn more than one hundred head a day. For the service he received the munificent sum of five cents a head. Grandpa had the reputation of being a superior wheat cradler. At one time he travelled practically al1 night to get to his place of employment and when the days work began he greatly outdistanced even the foreman. It was said that he could whet a tune on his cradle blade with his whet-stone.

It is worthy of note that they managed to live always near a school, and it was their custom to board the school teachers. Perhaps Grandma’s experience as a teacher was partly responsible for this series of kind deeds.

It was likewise their custom to entertain the preachers. If the roll call of Quaker ministers who enjoyed their hospitality could be given, it would include many of the well known ministers of the past generation. So conspicuous was this service of entertainment that their home was sometimes called “The Quaker Hotel.”

Time would fail me to give any chronological treatment of their lives. I cannot tell of the moves they made in Iowa, nor of their labors in Oklahoma, nor yet of their residence in Kansas or California. Suffice it to say that both were active in every good work, loyal to the church and its principles, loyal to the government, as good citizens, loyal and generous to their children and faithful to their friends.

Was there a charity to be supported, they were among the first to give to it; was there a church fund to be raised, their names stood near the top of the list; was there a cause to be promoted, their services were willingly offered. At Wright, Iowa, near Oskaloosa, when the Quaker meeting house was built, they furnished the land, headed the list of subscribers, hauled much of the lumber without charge, and boarded the carpenters with the same liberality.

And so, Grandpa and Grandma, we rejoice in the life you have 11ved — we are proud of your record — your good deeds, your loyalty, your thrift, your friendship, your love. We rejoice in our inheritance through you and we pray that years may yet be granted you and that they will be even better than those that have passed.

–W.T. Boyce

We have another source of information about Joseph and Sarah Ann Votaw: a ten-page typed history that was written for the their 60th wedding anniversary on Nov. 7, 1920. This document (written by their grandson-in-law William Boyce) is transcribed at left. It is a remarkable story, and gives a powerful picture of what life was like for these Quaker pioneers.

Joseph (1836-1921) and Sarah Ann (1839-1923) were married in 1860, right at the beginning of the Civil War. They were married in Michigan, and Merritt records that they “married themselves” according to Friends custom.

When the Civil War started, Joseph was drafted, but was able to pay a single man (who had not been drafted) $300 to go in his place. This was permitted by law. When the war ended, they moved to Iowa.

Sarah Ann came from a conservative Quaker family who used plain speech, and she would wear her Quaker bonnet on “certain occasions,” according to Merritt. Of his mother Merritt writes, “Mother could not express her Christian joy and happiness in public but her quiet, sweet prayerful life was expressed each day of her life and she was a benediction to all who knew her.”

Elmer was born in 1869, and Merritt in 1878; the family moved to Kansas in 1882 but returned to Iowa in 1886.

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