"Where's William?"

"Still in the cabin, I think."

As the rest of the family clambered aboard The Empress, Dad rushed below decks and, sure enough, the babe still lay in his bed, oblivious to the crash and his peril. Only when the two of them were up the ladder did the sailors cut the ropes and the Livelseys watch their boat, their supplies and their plans for starting in Ohio, go to the bottom of Lake Erie.

This was not the only time William cheated death in his 90 years.

Ohio in 1841 was out west. Yet, of the 17 million people in the country, one million lived in Ohio. In that hopeful generation before George and Esther arrived, going west was big and looked limitless. The original Western Reserve consisted of Ohio and beyond, now the states of Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, etc. After it was wrested from the French, the American Revolution happened. This western land was then given to soldiers for benefits. Cleveland was started in 1790 by one group of these recipients. Today's Ohio was made a state in 1803. When George and Esther got to shore there was a wooden city surrounded closely by farms. To one of these the young family moved, 30 miles from Cleveland, and commenced farming and friend making.

William was the youngest when his parents came; then they were joined by sister Betsy in 1843. He got the middle name of Lamb in remembrance of friends of his parents, as did Betsy [O'Kell]. William was only four and a half when his folks took the family back to Cheshire in 1845. So he really opened his eyes an English boy in the area of his ancestors, and lived there ten years. He went to school in Castle Northwich and played in the Weaver. He helped his father with the farming and learned to work. When they re-immigrated he was a mature, strong, sharp young man of 15. Mrs. Rothwell, his teacher and friend from church, was particularly sorry to see him go. This time there were no sinkings, and with Mary 22, and Alfred 8, George and Esther traveled with a grown up group of children.

In 1856 they only passed through Ohio on their way to the Baraboo Valley of Wisconsin, the frontier of that day. Wisconsin itself had become a state in 1848 and Reedsburg, to which the Livesleys moved, was founded that same year. There's sandy, sometimes shalely soil there, not perfect for farming but adequate. The towns rapidly developed and built their institutions. By the time the Civil War broke out there was no question this was Union country.

William's oldest brother Sam and his family joined them in 1859. That year oldest sister Mary married Martin Cooper, a young widower with four boys, and commenced adding to the brood right away. William was 18 at the time, and studied brother-in-law Martin, ten years his senior, carefully. He particularly learned Martin's milling trade and made it his own. And my, how the town loved it when Lincoln made the decision to go get the Rebels. On the 16th of June, 1861, William signed for three years in the Sixth Wisconsin Volunteers, in its first call. Indeed, the boys looked natty as they marched through town on their way out. The band played, the flags snapped in the wind, their girlfriends smiled and blew promises. Hopes were high this would be a short and clear action and all would be soon home.

But after their training, the Sixth found no conflict. For more than a year they saw no gray uniforms at all. They were moving south and east all the time, now nearly to Washington. They heard about MacClellan's hesitations on the Peninsula and, with great frustration, about the easy grab of Richmond that proved elusive. These were strong young men for whom waiting was intolerable. Braggadocio reigned around the campfires. They itched for a fight. Indeed the Richmond campaign had been abandoned by the time Colonel Cutler and William's "Iron Brigade" was ordered down the Warrenton Turnpike to join forces with Pope's army. It was the evening before the Second Battle of Bull Run, actually, when the boys walked directly into Stonewall Jackson's troops dug in around the Groveton farm. One minute they whistled with their arms at their sides, the next they were in a smoky firefight at close range, all of the advantage being with the Rebels. As if they didn't have trouble enough, the troops opposite the Sixth turned out to be Jackson's own "Stonewall Brigade."

It's lucky that Company A was toward the back of the column. The boys up front faired very badly. There was no cover from the artillery or small arms for anyone. The Union men fought bravely from the road, standing up, firing as fast as they could load, the Reb's faces clearly visible in the musket flashes. The crying of the wounded was awful. They fought for two and a half hours before night closed off the struggle. One third of them were killed. These few days were the exact high point of Confederate strength. Groveton was recorded as a Confederate victory, but with the dead at 893 and 759, it was a costly victory. It had been just over an hour, a grueling, loud, scary hour, when a ball tore into William's right thigh, knocking him out.

When he came to and felt his wound, William crawled off the road into some shrubs, hoping he wouldn't be hit again. He wasn't. God only knows how George Harp got the big ambulance turned around in that dip in the road. The soldiers actually picked up the little one and walked it around the horse. And luckily, when the fighting was over, they picked up William too and quickly loaded him. Yet it was no picnic at the field hospital either. There were plenty of supplies but no one was prepared for the carnage they now faced. But the surgeons did look at William's mangled leg and found the femur intact. That alone saved him from amputation.

AFTER THE BATTLE
William was moved to Campbell Hospital near Washington where he was further treated. As soon as he was able, he wrote home and assured all that he would make it. A month later, he was still not fit for battle. He first became a nurse at the hospital, then a guard in the Invalid Detachment. In October of 1863 he got a 30 day furlough and went home. On July 15, 1864, he completed his three years of service, was honorably discharged at Madison, and went home for good.

Reedsburg had changed in the interim, and so had William. All was more somber, purposeful. Martin came home from the Cavalry, thankfully whole, and William took up milling where he left off. It was the hopeful time of marriage, first of George, then Betsy in 1865, and Thomas (in distant Columbus OH) and William himself in 1866. First thing you know young Maud, Cora, Charles, Susan and John, and Sam's two new ones William James and Charles were in the family. And, the powdery mildew having all but extinguished the New York hop crop, the area around Reedsburg boomed as a result. A hop 'mania' gripped townspeople and farmers alike until the bottom fell out in '68. That was also the year Ulysses Grant and Benjamin Disrali were elected.

Then George's wife suddenly died of the measles, followed that November by his young daughter Cora. No one expected this double blow, and the Livesleys huddled around him. The men folk began talking about the new state of Nebraska. It had just entered the Union and the government was offering free land, pieces of the prairie, to new settlers. This sounded like an opportunity. In five years they could have something to sell, for only the cost of getting there and registering, and of course, doing the work. Martin and Mary were willing, even with their large family. William's Mary wanted to try it, and Alfred too. Parents George and Esther were game, and, surprising all, so was battered William.

Thomas was starting his family with Susan in Michigan, and did not come home. Sam and Margaret opted to stay in Ironton with theirs. So did Betsy and her veteran husband William Stansfield. So all winter (1868-69) the travelers readied for their great undertaking in the spring. Then, just before their departure, Betsy died following the birth of her third child Bessie. She was only 26. These things happen, they said, but there was a pall on all the Livesleys and their usually vibrant spirit.

NEBRASKA
William, Mary and Maud nevertheless set out with the others in what turned out to be a reasonable and direct wagon trip. On the way they passed through Des Moines, Iowa. Camping at the edge of town they took turns watching the animals while the others toured the city on the trolleys. At Des Moines they also said good-bye to the larger portion of their fellow travelers who went west on the Oregon Trail. Just before they crossed the Missouri at Nebraska City, William stayed behind in southern Iowa because he found some temporary work. For me this characterizes the whole effort: they were staking land claims all right, but this was not the only thing they were doing. It was a practical venture. The men found other paying jobs as often as they could. They met the requirement to live on their new land, but moved into the towns at the first chance.

Right away William and Mary had two more children, Blanche and Mabel, on that flat land. So did Mary and Martin, young Sam and then Cecil. Years later Sam wrote memoirs of those years for his sister Libby, which he titled, "A Jaunt West in '69." This wonderful document says much more about the place and the Livesleys' time there than you'll ever read here. William and Mary got a patent on 160 acres in Precinct K, right next to Alfred and George. The Coopers were in Precinct N, with only Joe Bivens between them and the parents, and just down the road form the others. The railroad, though not built yet, was granted every other square, giving a checkerboard look to the map. This was the prairie for sure, a big sky land of deep grass sod, flat and treeless for miles, quite different from the Baraboo Valley. They built their sod houses that August, but went 70 miles to the railhead at Omaha to buy real windows and roofing material for them. After a while they broke more and more ground, raised animals and planted trees.

Then in August of 1870, after only one year, father George died. He's buried there, but no one knows just where anymore. At 65, he couldn't offer a great deal to the building, but, being a pious and Scriptured man, he helped Martin a good deal in bringing Christian services to the settlers. They wrote home about this loss, and all looked after Mom.

All his life, William was a great singer and organizer of choirs. Not any the less out here. There's a lovely story in the history of Beaver Crossing, Nebraska, which tells of the Independence Day gathering the settlers made in 1872. Mentioned was William as part of the quartet from Milford who entertained that day.

Martin and Mary sold their land in 1875, shortly after they had finished their five years. Just when the others did, and to whom, we don't know yet. We do know that later in the decade the Livesleys contemplated selling land and livestock, and moving on to the Pacific Coast. The Burlington and Missouri railroad had been extended near them and a huge flood of new immigrants were seeking land. It seemed an opportune moment. Pressure was put on the Coopers to join them, but they returned to Ironton in 1884. There was a plague of grasshoppers in the middle 1870s which especially damaged the corn. We think William and Mary experienced this, but nevertheless bought a neighbor's 80 acres, and sold all on mortgage. Apparently the buyer failed, and taking the land back, they sold it again, this time from Washington. From his appearance in both the Nebraska and Washington Territory censuses of 1880, it appears this was the year he moved. My theory, based on Mary's obit mention of her 1883 arrival on Vashon, is that William and Alfred went ahead, and the women and children followed later.

WASHINGTON TERRITORY
William and his brother Alfred were close in age and temperament. He was also friendly with Alfred's in-laws, Timothy and Will (?) O'Keefe, and the men traveled together. They went directly to Tumwater, on south Puget Sound, where they looked out on uninhabited Vashon Island, and took their second land claims. They were among the first whites on the island, and a corner of William's claim became "downtown" Vashon, Washington. Building the frame house (the first one on the island) marked the beginning of 115 years there for his family. And what a change, from the hot summers and cold winters of the plains to the temperate climate of the Pacific Northwest; from the treeless land to the tall timber and water of Puget Sound; from the miles of flat to views of Rainier and the other volcanoes.

No sooner had William and Alfred built their houses, they went to the west side of the island and started a shingle mill at the mouth of a small stream, long-called "Shingle Creek." This business was known as "Livesley Bros." Charles Darwin died that year, Rodin sculpted The Thinker and, after twelve years of building, the Brooklyn Bridge opened.

1883 was the year of Alfred's land claim. And William's starting a brick kiln. Also Edison's invention of the light bulb. In 1885 William did something equally unexpected: with a few others in this wild land, he started and ran a Chautaqua. They got ground donated, built the lecture facilities, invited and arranged the speakers. This spot later became Ellisport, Washington. The Vashon Chautaqua became a very popular outing for Seattleites, who spent the day boating on the sound and being edified by speakers on the island.

He also continued to sing, to organize and teach choirs. Everyone knew his voice and opinions in political matters too. While he never held elective office, he was forthright and tenacious on the issues of the day, yet as proven, still willing to change. He was proud of his service during the Rebellion, and participated in Veterans' gatherings here as he had in Nebraska. And, while serving as Justice of the Peace in 1888, he married his daughter to Berry Anway, son of fellow Vashon pioneers.

AFTER VASHON
The 1890s were a period of enormous change. Burnham & Root ushered in the skyscraper era with the Monadonock Building in Chicago; telephones gravitated from public devices to a standard business appliance; Tesla and Edison duked it out over the best way to transmit electric energy; the Expo at Buffalo showed the future of electric lights; the safety razor and zipper were invented; Roentgen discovered X-rays; people rushed to bring out the successful automobile and plane; the Kodak Brownie camera revolutionized picture taking. Bicycles and health foods were the rage; C. W. Post and Kellogg started their breakfast empires; Dr. Thompson began to bottle Coca-Cola.

In this world, William became a real estate developer. Seattle was becoming a city, and he thought he saw an opportunity in creating the Spring Hill residential district. So he took his energy to this project across the water while Mary stayed behind. All went well until the financial panic of 1897, when he and his fellows suddenly found themselves with mighty costs and no buyers. William lost his shirt.

We lose track of him for awhile after this. Perhaps it took a few years to pick up the pieces. In 1903, the news was of the Wrights at Kitty Hawk, in 1906 of the earthquake at San Francisco. In 1908-1912 William (and Mary?) lived in Alberta, we presume near Blanche's second daughter Ruth who in these years married Albertan Oliver Willsie. First came grandson Marshall, who unfortunately died at about 2, and then, the year after they left, Howard. We have this from the Baraboo (Wisconsin) paper in July, 1913, "William Livesley of Seattle arrived yesterday and spent part of today in the city with his niece Mrs. G. W. Andrews ["Libby"]. Mr. Livesley was a member of the Sixth Wisconsin and met a number of his old comrades while here. He formerly resided in Loganville and LaValle and 43 years ago [1870] went to Nebraska and later Washington to make his home."

In 1893 he applied for a pension based on his Civil War service. Martin Cooper submitted an affidavit that the heat of the summer in Nebraska prostrated him and made him unable to function, and gave "cooler climate" as one reason for going to Washington. He must have gotten it, because in 1907 he applied for an increase. Then, on June 15, 1920, his long time friend and companion Mary died at Ellisport. She was 74. On the 27th of July he applied for residence at the Port Orchard (King Co.) Soldiers' Home. He was 79 years old, and listed his pension at $40 a month.

He must not have stayed long, because in 1921 he married again, Nancy Pickett of Seattle.

In 1931 Knute Rockne died. And so, at 90, did one of the last surviving veterans of the Civil War, William Livesley. 

@2000 by Sam Bush; reproduced on this website with permission