Week 7 – Outcast                    

This week I’m going to share the story of my great-great grandfather, Peter Neth.

Peter Neth was born 29 August 1835 in Mossingen, Wurttemberg, Deutschland.   On 18 July 1853, seventeen-year-old Peter arrived, alone, in New York City. Peter was a hatter, a trade most likely brought with him from Germany. His wife, Barbara Neth, was born 31 March 1831, also in Mossingen, who immigrated with her parents and siblings in 1835. Before we go any further, I want to add that Neth was also his wife’s maiden name.  The Neth’s were Lutheran and if you know anything about Lutherans, it is that they keep impeccable records. Peter and Barbara were eighth cousins, both born in the same place, so I can only imagine that they knew their relationship before they married, on 27 July 1856 in Philadelphia.

Peter and Barbara are my great-great grandparents through their granddaughter, Henrietta Anthony Patton. Henrietta is the same grandmother who would drag me to Moberly, Missouri every summer. When I say that I never had a care about the family history that my grandmother and great-aunt Naomi would spew at me, that is not entirely true. Their parents’ family Bible, in my possession today, has a family tree in it. While it had the Patton family back several generations, the Neth side only went so far as Barbara and her parents. The name of Barbara’s husband had been scratched out (much like the mean girl you didn’t like whose picture you scratched out of your high school yearbook). In my teen years, I recall asking about this. Grandma and Aunt Naomi were quick to answer they didn’t know who Barbara’s husband was. Period. End of story. I often thought how odd that was because I certainly knew the names of my grandparents, but I left it alone until years later when I finally accepted the inevitable and became addicted to genealogy. The fact that Barbara’s maiden name was Neth, and her children were all Neth’s, I wondered if Barbara was ever married to begin with. What a scandal that would have been!

My dad’s sister, Aunt Dorothy, had climbed around in our Neth family tree back in the 1970’s and 80’s. She had pages and pages of notes, and as I was reading through them, I found this - “Peter Neth was a scoundrel.” Through all the pages, this was the only time the name Peter Neth appeared. There was no information on who he was, or how we were related.

I began to try and fit ol’ Peter into my family tree. Ironically, there were two Peter Neths who immigrated from Mossingen, and still several more who remained in Germany. Of course, I picked the wrong one to start and down that rabbit hole I went. I spent entirely too much time trying to cross the pond and find the family of “the other” Peter Neth. He had also come to America as a single man, but he was born in 1852. Frustration set in and I put Peter on the shelf (incidentally, and of no consequence whatsoever, my grandkids “Elf on the Shelf” was named Peter). I had so many other branches of my family tree to explore, so the elusive Neth’s were never in the forefront of my research. After I had found ALL my relatives on ALL other branches of my family tree (this is a genealogy joke…) I went back determined to find out who my Neth ancestors were. 

Census enumerators were not necessarily known for their spelling…or their handwriting. I had already found Barbara and family in 1880, where she was in Missouri listed as a widow. I assumed her unknown husband had died prior to this time.  Following what you know and working back (the golden rule of genealogical research) I continued my search. I knew they were married in Philadelphia, so when I had A LOT of down time, I decided to go page by page, looking for Barbara and her children. Perseverance finally paid off!! Although their surname was spelled Netz and indexed as Mett, I found them! Included in the family was a man, Peter Neth. Knowing where they were in 1860, I had a starting point to track them into the next decade. I was then able to find them in 1870 – where this time they were listed as the “Vieth” family, which now included five children. I now had a reference date to try and find information about Peter’s death.

If you’ve never used directories to trace your ancestors, let what follows be a valuable learning tool. For every single year, from 1861 through 1897, Philadelphia had a listing for Peter Neth, Hatter, in their city directory. But wait! Barbara Neth, widow, was in Missouri by 1880, so how could the presumed spouse in her household in 1860 and 1870 be this same Peter Neth? Back to the 1880 census I went, trying to find more information about the Peter Neth who still lived in Philadelphia. There he was, with his wife, Mary, and three children, Joseph, Kate and Bertha. Barbara had no children with these names, so one would think this was an entirely different family, regardless of the fact that both Peter’s were born 1835 in Germany, and were both hatters. I continued to look for this Peter Neth in subsequent records, because now I was simply curious. In 1900, Peter Neth, Hatter, now widowed, was living in the Blockley Almshouse. 

Blockley Almshouse, which would later be known as Philadelphia General Hospital, was a charity hospital and poorhouse. The Peter Neth who was enumerated there in 1900, died 15 December 1902. The birth date on his death certificate matched the birth date on the naturalization record of Peter Neth, husband of Barbara. This WAS my great-great grandfather, Peter Neth.

 

I have this thing about cemeteries. I love them and I love visiting my ancestors in them. It was only natural that I would now want to know where Peter was buried. The Undertaker’s Certificate for Peter had a burial place which was almost illegible. I say almost because one of my genealogy buddies was able to decipher it.  It said “anatomical”.  I then discovered what “anatomical” meant...

Peter’s body was used as a cadaver for the University of Pennsylvania’s medical school, which was located just north of the Almshouse. An article in the Philadelphia Inquirer, 7 May 2007, told that in 2001, a discovery was made of more than 1,000 bodies, only 400 in coffins, when construction of a parking garage, at University Avenue and Civic Center Boulevard began. There were sawed-off arms and legs of hundreds more that lay discarded in 138 scrap wood boxes. Citing the article, “What came from all this was a little-told story of 19^th century Philadelphia, where the lives of those people laid low by poverty, epidemic disease, alcoholism or mental illness intersected with those of the medical superstars who used the bodies to rewrite anatomy textbooks”. This practice ended in 1903, one year after the death of my great-great grandfather, Peter Neth.

 

It makes me sad to know he died alone and penniless, and the method to which his final resting place was prepared. I do hope something good came from his body being used for science. I still have so many unanswered questions – Did Peter and Barbara divorce? Did he actually marry Mary? “Peter Neth was a scoundrel.” I have no idea what that actually means. Was he a drinker? A philanderer? A gambler? Perhaps he suffered from mental illness. I doubt that I will ever know.  One thing is for sure, he was most definitely an outcast, at least as far as Barbara and her children were concerned. Does that mean he should be erased from my family history? My answer is no. So, I will tell his story and who knows, maybe one of my descendants will someday be able to unravel the mystery.