Lotspeich Family Information Site
Hello, my name is Bob Lotspeich 20502 E. 351st Street, Archie, MO.
I started research on the Lotspeich family in 1963 and I have many stories, diaries, wills, land records,and as of January 2003 I have over 11,700 names in my data base. I will share and exchange information with anyone who has Lotspeich ancestors. I only ask that they give me information on their family that I don't have.
This site is established to link the entire Lotspeich Family in the world together.
Links to other Lotspeich web sites, reunions and other interesting information, will be listed here. It is my hope that this page will pull our family closer together. From time to time I will add stories that I have collected over the years in researching our most diverse and interesting ancestors.
Please email me and let me know what you think of the site and anything you would like to enter.
As you may or may not know Johann Christopher Lotspeich settled in Greene Co., Tennessee in the late 1700's. There he and his wife Barbara raised their family. There were 15 children born to Johann (John) and Barbara. 13 of these children grew to adulthood and married. When I mention someone on this site I will refer to one of those children as the ancestor of whoever is mentioned.
If you have a question about a Lotspeich or part of the extended family, or you have information you would like to share, please contact me at my e-mail address.
For an outline descendant tree of Johann Conrad Lotspeich go to my Family Tree Maker Home Page
Below is an account of one of our ancestors early encounters with Newbraska in 1889. She was the wife of Albert Marion Lotspeich a descendent of Rev. Ralph Lotspeich, the Circut Rider.
RHODA ELIZABETH (VANNEST) LOTSPEICH
PIONEERS OF THE NEBRASK SANDHILLS by Rhoda Elizabeth Vannest
Located in the central part of Nebraska, the hills and valleys of the Sandhills extend for 250 miles East and West, and across the state North and South. This is known as the best cattle country in the world. The good quality of grass that covers the hills make feed for the cattle to fatten on, ready for ma
rket during the summer. In the valleys, the grass supplies hay for winter feeding.
Through this part of Nebrasks in 1888 and 1889 the Chicago-Burlington and Quincy Railroad wound on its way into Wyoming. My father, Tipton Vannest, was sent as its first Section Forman.
At 2:00 A.M., the 9th of September, 1889, Father, Mother, five children (Charlie-13; May-11; Rhoda-9; George-5; Earl-3) and od Shep, the dog, got off the train. We looked around and all we could see was the new section house and hills. While we were standing there wondering where we could go or what we could do with no bedding or beds, a man walked up to us and asked if we were looking for some one. Father told him how we happened to be there. He told us he ran the Post Office and we could go with him as he had brought the mail pouch to put on the train and received another one to take back to the Post Office.
The Post Office was a one room shack with 2 little rooms curtained off for four of them to live in. However, we were grateful his kindness and went with him. His mother and sister got up and insisted that Father and Mother go to bed and they put quilts on the floor for us to sleep on. That Mother and Sister sat in chairs until time to prepare the breakfast, and oh, how we enjoyed that breakfast. After that, we children were ready to go out and explore and to play in the lovely white sand that was everywhere. There was a big hill just northwest which we wanted to climb just to see what was at the top. Mother agreed, only if Charlie would go with us as chaparone. He agreed after much pleading and for two hours we were happy and busy. At 4:00 in the afternoon the train brought the car our belongings were in, sidetracked it just in front of the house, and everyone, big and little, got bust carying things into the house. Our friends were so kind in fixing food that day and helped to get the heavy things into th house. That was Sandhill Hospitality which we enjoyed for many years.
After we got settled we realized we needed a cow to supply milk for the family. Often a rancher would come to take the train to Alliance or Eastern towns. Mother inquired about a cow from each until she finally bought one for $20 if the rancher would deliver her. Real soon he came to unload a car of fence posts and brought the cow. How exciting to have a big red cow of our own to supply the most delicious milk we ever had. We had a problem of keeping her on a picket rope as she objected to that very much. She would go round and round, eat and tramp the grass cut, then had to be moved to new pasture and sha always went faster than I could. Mother would come to my rescue but still Old Red would drag us through beds of cactus, etc. She was not particular about the path she chose to take us through. In three weeks she finally got used to being tied up and became satisfied. To water her we had to draw the water by hand from the well and Old Red drank more water than two cows should. Many advised us how to take care of Old Red. One sounded good so Mother got another cow so Red would have company. Oh, another picket rope to take care of. However, Spot was much better dispositioned than Red. In tw weeks a calf joined our cattle herd. It was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen. How we enjoyed seeing Mother feed it. We only had that wonderful experience three times a day as Mother said too much attention was not good for a calf.
When we had been in our new home a few weeks the train stopped for the conductor to tell Father he would have to be responsible for delivering telegrams to the ranchers out in the surrounding country. This news was so welcomed by the ranchers they helped us get an Indian pony I could ride.
May was afraid of horses and Charlie was busy helping Father, so it was my job to learn to manage and ride Prince. He was gentle and when I fell off he waited for me to get on again. I didn't have a saddle, just put a banket on him and tried to tie it on with aope. I had to ride sidewise and I didn't have that mastered too good when the first telegram to be delivered five miles away. With many fears and misgivings Mother started me off. Several times I fell off, sometimes landing on my feet and sometimes on my back. Each time Prince would stop, then I would have to wait until I found a bank high enough for me climb up on Prince again. After three or four trips Mother decided I would have to have a saddle and they got me a little side saddle which solved the problem of falling off unless it turned with me. It did that sometimes when Prince jumped side ways or stumbled and almost fell. Often the ranchers would come to the station just in time to get on the train for Omaha or other eastern towns. They would leave their horses for me to take care of for three or four days at a time. Sometimes I would ride their horses and got along so much better with their saddles than mine. One day they brought me an old saddle and I really appreciated it. About this time the Kincaid Homestead Act became a law and many people came from the Eastern cities to file on homesteads which they would prove up on by staying on it part time. Some sold the land to ranchers as soon as it was patented, others stayed and enjoyed their Sandhill homes and the increase in population made a heavier job for me. Sometimes when I would go home from one trip another telegram would be waiting for m. Father and Mother thought it was too much for old Prince, so they began looking for another horse and got another Indian pony which we could drive or ride. His name was Joe. Now we had a team to drive and no buggy or wagon. Some friends helped us get a spring wagon and harness and the next telegram that had to be delivered, Mother thought it would be nice if they could all go for the ride as I only had to go to and a half miles. We all got ready, hitched Prince and Joe to the spring wagon and climbed in, happy and anticipating the joy of picking some wild flowers that were so pretty. Mother took the lines but when she tried to get the team to go, Old Joe just turned his head and looked at us and refused to move. Finnaly I said, "Whip him with end of the lines", but Mother said, "Oh, don't whip him. I'll get him to go." She got a pan of oats and gave him a bite then moved ahead and he would follow as long as the oats lasted then just back at us defiantly. I got out where I could reach him with a stick I picked up and I spanked him but Mother couldn't agree with that treatment, so, unknown to her, I took a long hat pin out of my broad-brimmed hat and jabbed it into him and off they went. I grabbed the back of the wagon, got in, and came back for Mother and we were on our way after one and a half hour delay. Joe never did balk again. I had him for many years then traded him to a rancher for a nice heifer calf.
As the country settled up and more children came, school was a problem. We had been going to a school held in the living room of a sod house one mile west of Bingham with the father of the Post Master as our teacher for two years. Then they built a sod school house two miles north of Bingham and got us real desks.
The two mile walk every morning and evening gave rosy cheeks and big appetites. How we did love to pick the lovely wild sweet peas, blue bells and roses in the Spring time. Some years we had an abundant crop of sandcherries which were delicious as a dessert with sugar and cream or for jelly or jam. They ripened in August and so we would take buckets, wash tubs, etc., and pick them off of little bushes that grew the best on sandy peaks of the hills. As the number of cattle increased in the Sandhills, sandcherries were killed out.
I was still sent to deliver telegrams. One one occasion a death message came on the 2:00 A.M. train with a demand to deliver it at once as an answer was expected. Mother did not call me until daylight, then I started out on my eight mile ride with the telegram and instructions to be sure to be back by dark. This man was not at home and his wife took me with her in a buggy five miles farther on. It was dark when we got back to the ranch and I was eight miles from home. I started out immediately, knowing Mother would be waiting up for me. Old Joe had rested up all afternoon and I really tried his speed. It was a beautiful moon liight night and going down the road, I saw a beautiful little animal and I determined to get close enough to describe it when I got home so they could tell me what it was. When I got close, it introduced itself to me as a common skunk, much to my displeasure.
As I expected, Mother was waiting for me but when I got to the door she cried, "Oh, don't come in. Stay right there 'till I get some hot water." She got Father up and gave him the mesage I had brought just in time to flag the train by waving a lantern across the track. He gave the envelope to the conductor and didn't wait to hear his comments about the perfume. In the mean time, Mother got the water warm with wash tub, towels and soap, I got a good scrubbing. I had to leave saddle, bridle and blanket out on the ground and the next day they got a good bath. I was a very tired but wiser girl when I retired that morning.
In the Spring of 1891 the Sioux Indians got a government permit to leave the Reservation in South Dakota and travel by wagon through the Sandhills on a hunting expedition. There were several men came one morning while George and I were helping Mother out in the yard. One of them was spokesman for all. He said, "How" and we knew he said now and we took a firm grip on Mother's hand, ready to fight. That made them laugh at us but we didn't take that as a
friendly greeting and we were not friendly to them. They handed Mother a big envelope which contained government papers that introduced them to us with the assurance they would be friendly and do no harm. A young white woman was with them as a teacher. She was so pretty and sweet. The Indians loved her and we learned to love her too. Earl was a cute, blonde, curly headed little boy. They couldn't keep their hands off him and we were afraid to trust them unless the teacher was with them. They wanted to trade horses for him. Each day they had a new proposition to make Mother. She finally made them understand, through the teacher, they couldn't have him. Then they wanted May and tried to persuade her to go with them but Mother said no. They brought pretty blankets they had made for we girls and had to wrap the around us. That gave them a chance to put their arm around us and love us a little. They made pretty beaded moccasins for all of us. They made their camp just east of Bingham and stayed there about a month when they left there were ten covered wagons and several horses. All waved and talked as they drove by. The teacher did not like to leave us and we were lonesome for a while, especially at meal time, for they were always there when we started to get a meal, laughing the way we fixed it or trying to trade us out of something. They were so fond of Mother's bread and she gave them some each time she baked.
I delivered messages for five years and Joe and Prince deserved a medal for faithfulness during that time. One one occasion when I couldn't take them, I rode my brother's horse, Dan. He was blind in one eye and a rough rider. There was a death message and I had to go eight miles to deliver it. All the pay we got for this service was some fresh meat when the ranchers butchered a beef. This man had a nice beef in the shed and he had the hired man cut up what he could tie behind my saddle. He took a big sack, put some in each end and tied it in the middle, then tied it on the saddle. Dan objected very much to this and we worked a long time with him before he settled down so I could get on him, and when I did, it was late at night. When I had gone about three miles the coyotes started up a howling jamboree so close they scared Dan as well as myself. He started running and I couldn't stop him. He ran until the coyotes stopped barking and then I noticed the meat sack was on one side. I got off to fix it, so glad Dan had outrun the coyotes, but I discovered the sack had come untied on the open end and the meat lost out. I suppose the coyotes were happy with it. I didn't go back to see.
The years go swiftly by and I grew up and married one of the men where I had delivered a message a few years before. For forty-nine ears we lived a happy life in the Sandhills of Nebraska and I still like the Sandhills.
Rhoda Elizabeth (Vannest) Lotspeich passed to her reward just before her 102 birthday.
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