The German Branch of the Tidd Family Tree

My grandfather, Ellsworth Tidd (1920-2014), inherited a surname rich with New England history. Over the three hundred years of English settlement in Massachusetts that preceded his birth, his Tidd forbears appeared at every noteworthy event from the Great Migration in the 1630s to the battles of the American Revolution (and every other conflict) to the industrialization of manufacturing that pervaded the 1800s.

But the Tidds are only a quarter of Ellsworth’s story. New England is the story of Ellsworth’s grandfather, Elmer Tidd, but not his other grandfather, Harry Hartley, who immigrated from the British Midlands in the late 1800s, nor Ellsworth’s Swedish-born grandmother, Hilda Lindgren, who immigrated as a girl around the same time. Both brought their own history, some of it difficult to assimilate. Elmer and Harry came from families who fought each other during the Revolution. Now they shared grandchildren.

Ellsworth’s fourth grandparent, maternal grandmother Lulu Edith Mosman, descended from German immigrants who settled the Maine coast in the 1750s. Their surnames are all but forgotten from Tidd family lore: Genthner and Seitlinger and Umberhind on Lulu’s mother’s side, Steudle and Schwarz on her father’s. Their families crossed the Atlantic over a century after the English Puritans, but in many ways their struggle to survive in the Maine wilderness proved more difficult than anyone who came before them.

Here is what I could learn about them.

From the Rhineland to the Maine Coast

In 1730, a Boston-born merchant and land developer of German descent named Samuel Waldo bought the rights to coastal land between the Penobscot and Muscongus Rivers, generally the area encompassing the towns of Rockland, Thomaston, Warren, and Waldoboro (which bears his name) in present-day Maine. His patent was known as “Broad Bay.”

The 1720s conflict with natives tribes allied with France, referred to today as “Dummer’s War”, had ended with a 1727 treaty between the English and the Penobscot tribe inhabiting the area. The English were to enjoy the lands “as far as the saltwater flowed, and no farther.” The native Penobscot retained the rest. Given the many peninsulas created by deep inlets, Waldo’s patent covered thousands of acres.

At first Waldo sold off tracts of land in fits and starts. His early settlers were local, overwhelmingly of English, Irish, and Scotch descent. Conditions were harsh, the winters long and cold. They scratched out an existence with crude farms, supplementing their income by cutting lumber for the Boston market. Despite Dummer’s treaty, bloody disputes with their native neighbors remained frequent. Many early settlers disappeared without a trace, either killed or fled southwest to more civilized locales.

The first German settlers arrived from the Palatinate region in 1742. Records show they were treated as outsiders, and not only by the Penobscot. To the English, they were second class citizens at best. Most “Palatines” did not stay, choosing instead to join the larger Dutch (i.e. Deutsch) communities in Pennsylvania and North Carolina, where their compatriots had generally received fairer treatment than they found in the province of Massachusetts Bay.

Hastening this early exodus, the 1740s brought King George’s War with France and with it more conflict with the France’s native allies. Broad Bay became all but unlivable.

That war also ended. By 1750 Waldo resumed the recruitment of German settlers for his Broad Bay venture. Realizing there were benefits to placing outsiders as a buffer against the French and Indians, Massachusetts politicians enacted protections for German immigrants they had previously not enjoyed. Waldo’s agents in Europe made attractive offers to men and families throughout the Rhineland.

Offers that, it turned out, were too good to be true.

The Priscilla and the St. Andrews

By November 1751, twenty-year-old Frederich Schwartz of Gutenberg Germany had seen more of the world than he ever dreamed and, given the suffering he had endured over long months at sea, probably more than he would ever care to.

After making their way from a small electorate in southern Germany along the Rhine River to Rotterdam that June, Frederick and his nine-year-old sister Martha boarded the Priscilla, a 290-ton ship outfitted to transport three hundred passengers. Due to new regulations to avoid overcrowding, however, the Massachusetts-bound vessel carried perhaps only two-thirds as many.

These restrictions drained profits, and some historians have speculated that the ship captain plotted with Waldo and his agents to replace lost income in creative ways. After weeks of delay in Cowes, England, the Priscilla sailed for Boston at the end of July with depleted provisions. Making matters worse, the usual six-week voyage took a record-breaking ninety days. Unusual headwinds? Or part of a cunning scheme?

Somewhere in the middle of the ocean, the settlers’ supplies failed altogether. Meals stopped. When the passengers protested, Waldo’s agent sequestered himself in his cabin and refused to see anyone. On cue, the captain stepped in. The ship had its own stores, he explained, separate from those loaded for the passengers. He offered provisions, for a price.

As historian Jasper Jacob Stahl writes:

Those without resources were forced to go into debt to the ship, a debt that could be discharged to the ship only by their agreeing that the captain might auction them off as indentured servants on their arrival at port.

Whether this was simply bad luck for the Palatines or part of Waldo’s plan is difficult to ascertain, but when the Priscilla finally landed in November, with a New England winter fast approaching, Frederick and Martha watched as their fellow passengers were auctioned one by one. Some would not see Broad Bay for years. The rest passed the winter in Boston as best they could. Some were forced to bond themselves to survive. The others—some twenty or thirty families—found themselves more indebted to Waldo than planned when they arrived at Broad Bay in the spring of 1752.

Another batch of German immigrants landed that September aboard the ship St. Andrews. Martin Seidlinger, a farmer from Langensteinbach, arrived with his wife Maria, their daughter Elizabeth, and three other children. A young housewright (homebuilder) from Wurtemburg named Johannes Genthner and his new wife Catherine were also aboard.

Compared with the passage of the Priscilla, the troubles of the St. Andrews were minor. A report on the trip dated 23 Sep 1752 states:

The German Transport of the current year which arrive in the ship, St. Andrews, Captain Hood, ended the trip across the Atlantic within five weeks, with the passengers in good health. Four children were born on the journey. Only a few young children died, none of the adults or old people. Since it is still early in the year the people will be distributed on suitable and advantageous locations, of which details will be reported later.

A crossing in less than five weeks was nearly a record. Most passengers had sufficient credit to pay for the journey. Waldo and his agent may have tried the same ploy—why the St. Andrews also stopped in Cowes befuddles historians—yet on arrival fewer passengers bonded themselves out to the glassworks in Braintree, among other places.

And so by the fall of 1752 several hundred Germans—including young Frederick Schwartz and his sister, the Genthner couple, and the Sidelinger family—had constructed cabins on the shores of Broad Bay in present say Waldoboro.

The next year, 1753, Waldo landed one final ship of German immigrants, among them the Schumann family. Johann Schumann, reportedly both a locksmith and a weaver, and his wife Anna arrived with five older children. Their middle girl, Maria Louisa, turned nineteen during the voyage. Like many, the Schumanns had not paid for their voyage in advance, expecting to pay the debt from the bounty of their new home.

Waldo and his agents had promised free land, free food for six months, and free equipment for their new farms. These promises went partially if not largely unfulfilled. Deeds included feudal clauses that required perpetual tribute payments to Waldo. The Sidelingers, Genthners, and others settled the western bank of the Medomak river on land Waldo held no clear rights to himself. Their farm plots were ill shaped—long and thin, not square—and uncleared of timber and brush. The growing season, they learned from old timers, could be worryingly short. And the best hunting grounds lay north of the tidewater on native land.

Making matters worse, Waldo’s promised provisions failed to arrive over the winter of 1753-54 [Stahl, p191]. Food was scarce for everyone; even those with money went hungry. Seventeen died from exposure, malnutrition and disease. The rest bonded their children to the closest English settlements—Damariscotta and Warren—to ensure their survival and worked for whatever food they could get. A day’s labor brought a quart of buttermilk or meal.

To Waldo’s credit, his provisions arrived as soon as the ice broke on the river in the spring, and he is said to have provided them long after the six-month contract period had ended.

Saving this new batch of Germans from complete destruction, the first winters proved mild. The few 1742 settlers who remained had, through trial and error, hashed out a template for survival. Clear cut a minimum of five acres of land with two weeks hard labor. Let the wood sit where it falls for a winter, then burn the field the first dry week in May. Plant corn amidst the ashes and half burnt logs. Meanwhile, fish in the bay, hunt woodland game for meat, and cut timber for export to Boston in exchange for provisions. [Allen, p71-4]

Primitive conditions, but they would survive, if without many comforts. One particular cause for dismay: the Maine coast did not support grapes. Any hopes Martin Sidelinger and the other farmers had of reproducing the cherished wines of their home region proved fruitless.

Elsewhere, conflict brewed once again between France and England. If war broke out, Maine could not remain neutral. The Penobscot were Catholic converts allied with France. They also had legitimate grievances with Broad Bay: Waldo had settled the Germans below the tidewater, but a nearby Scotch settlement on the Georges River had clearly crossed the line. The Penobscot chief visited the settlement twice, warning that peace depended on respecting the 1727 Dummer treaty:

Although we are a black people, yet God hath placed us here; God gave us this land and we will keep it.

Anticipating trouble, in the spring of 1754 Massachusetts sent six hundred troops to build Fort Halifax on the Kennebec, thirty miles from Broad Bay. The natives attacked in July but could not prevent the fort’s completion.

Unfortunately, the new fort stood too far from Broad Bay to provide much comfort. The German newcomers felt dangerously exposed. With few weapons to defend themselves, nor any nearby fortified garrison to hide in, they appealed to the General Court for assistance. Any doubts they might have had about the looming conflict would have evaporated when the legislature responded. Instead of assurances that they had nothing to fear, they received a shipment of powder and ball.

Their plans to develop their land for agriculture took a backseat to defense preparations. The young housebuilder, Johannes Genthner, applied his skills to aid the construction of a fortified garrison on the west side of the river.

Four more forts sprung up in nearby towns.

The French War (1755-1762)

The Penobscot tribe sought neutrality at the outset of hostilities, but Broad Bay’s close neighbors were not the only threat to peace.

In November 1755, an Abenaki war party from Quebec roved south, attacking men working outside the new Fort Halifax on the Kennebec. Fear of further attacks spread across the frontier.

On orders from the General Court, Broad Bay raised a militia. One of their number with prior military service, Matthias Romele, captained a company of “Dutch” rangers. The young housebuilder, Johannes Genthner, joined their ranks.

Others from Broad Bay fled to the relative safety of Boston. Their number included members of the Schumann and Schwarz families. In February 1755, Maria Louisa Schuman married 20-year-old Frederic Black (Schwarz) at Boston’s Trinity Church.

The settlers who remained herded their cows and other livestock behind the garrison stockade and crowded into the drafty rooms at night. This communal arrangement would continue for the next seven years.

Any work outside the fort was done with an armed guard. Exceptions proved fatal. In June 1755, another Abenaki war party killed two German men driving cows from a cabbage patch. The Abenaki killed a third by ambush after luring him close with a cow bell.

In response to these and other attacks, Massachusetts declared war on every tribe east of the Penobscot river. The neutral Penobscot found themselves caught in the middle. For many English, an Indian was an Indian. Distrust led to affronts, and affronts to attacks. Massachusetts declared war on the Pensobscot by the end of 1756.

Broad Bay had enemies at their door.

Worsening matters, the 1756 collective harvest proved exceedingly poor. The scanty produce, from a short growing season and countless insects devouring their crops, led to food shortages as winter arrived.

The Penobscot harvest suffered similarly, and with little aid coming from their French allies, they sent an offer for peace. Massachusetts, not trusting the enemy, demanded terms too onerous for the Penobscot to accept. The war continued.

Attacks on Broad Bay escalated through the winter of 1757. A young couple named Pfeiffer were ambushed at home, the man was shot dead as he left his cabin for wood, his wife shot and killed through the cabin door. Their attackers plundered the cabin, but not the cellar where the Pfeiffer’s child lay hidden and unharmed.

While understanding their motives makes them no less deadly, such killings by the natives might be seen less as acts of war than those of desperate men with families of their own to feed. Even the more gruesome attacks might have had a profit motive. A settler named Kazimir Losch was killed while hauling wood to shore for shipment. He was found “laying a burning, with the hatched sticking fast in his skull. He was shot under the right arm and stabbed with a knife in a most barbarous manner.” His wife, who witnessed the attack before running to the garrison to save herself, said three of the natives first attempted to take Losch by stealth, possibly to sell him to the French. Only when Losch got the better for the first two did the third native shoot him.

Others were taken captive that year and marched to Canada, where they were sold to the French. Few records were kept, but after the war a man named Christian Klein went to Canada to retrieve his captive son. Most were never seen again.

Romele’s Rangers had difficulty defending against such attacks, which took place over a wide area on both sides of the long bay that required a half-day’s trek north to the only suitable crossing, a waterfall on the Medomak River. A journal believed to have been written by Romele shows that, in June 1757, attacks came almost daily. [Eaton, p103-105]

The daily dangers were not the only problems faced by the settlers. A petition to the Massachusetts General Court, signed in August 1757 by 50 family heads, states [Stahl p215]:

With tears in our eyes [we] must acquaint your honors that our harvest is so miserable as ever been known by mankind, so that the most of us will not be able to reap the seed which we have sowed with hard labor and in danger of our lives, owing to the deep snow which lasted till the middle of May and then the great drought which followed. We see no way to keep us and large families from starving, as the respective towns in the western parts refuse to receive any of us.

Fortunately, Massachusetts responded with aid.

The largest attacks came in 1758. In August a force of four hundred French and Indians attacked the fort at Saint George, eight miles from Broad Bay. Fortunately, Massachusetts was fully aware of their expedition and had crowded the fort with troops. The French and natives withdrew, but regrouped and attacked the smaller Broad Bay garrisons in September. They burned crops, killed cattle, and plundered unguarded cabins. The settlers escaped with their lives but little else. They spent the rest of the year preparing for winter that once again featured a pitiful harvest.

The war turned decisively against the French in 1759. After Louisbourg fell to siege in 1758, the British went on the offensive on all fronts. The French abandoned their forts in New York in July. Quebec City fell in September. Cut off from the sea, Montreal surrendered the following year.

The French War ended in 1762.

Aftermath

Ten years after their arrival, the Genthner, Schwarz, Sidelinger and other families of Broad Bay returned to their cabins at the close of the French War, free to develop their farms for the first time. Hurdles remained, however: Waldo had died without resolving the patent boundary dispute with the neighboring Pemaquid settlement. Many settlers, including the Sidelingers and Genthners, were forced to pay extra to obtain clear title to their land.

Relations with the neighboring Penobscot never recovered, but trust between the Germans and English strengthened over time, and Waldo’s settlement grew to include Puritans as well as German Palatines. When Broad Bay was incorporated as the town of Waldoboro in 1773, meetings were conducted in both languages.

The Revolution broke out two years later.

Frederick Schwartz was in his early forties when he, with others from Waldoboro, joined the 1^st Massachusetts Regiment. From 1777 to 1778 he served under Captain Abraham Hunt, a Boston port inspector and known Tea Party participant. Private Schwartz had survived an interminable ocean crossing, an eight-year war with France, years of hunger and hardship in the rugged Maine wilderness, and a brutal winter at Valley Forge, only to die soon after. His payroll terminated 4 July 1778, one week after the 28 June Battle of Monmouth. Whether Frederick succumbed to camp disease or battle wounds, or due to some other accident or circumstance, is unclear. Frederick left behind a wife and ten children. Their youngest was two years old.

Legacy

The eldest Schwarz daughter married into another German family, the Steudles, and a few years later gave birth to a daughter, Margaret, who in 1808 married Reuben Mossman, a ship captain from nearby Thomaston. (The Mossmans have their own interesting story, which I hope to put to paper sometime soon.)

Reuben and Margaret’s son, mariner Gardner Mossman, married Emeline Genthner, the daughter of Michael and Rachel (Sidelinger) Genthner.

Gardner and Emeline Mossman’s mostly German daughter Lulu Edith—maternal grandmother of my grandfather Ellsworth Tidd—was born in 1861.

So, I am about 5% German.

Sources

Allen, William, The History of Norridgewock, 1849

Ancestry.com: Birth & Marriage records, family trees showing Lulu Mosman ancestry

Eaton, Cyrus, The Annals of the Town of Warren, 1851

Miller, Samuel, History of the Town of Waldoboro, 1910

Stahl, Jasper Jacob, History of Old Broad Bay and Waldoboro, Vol 1, 1956

Whitaker, Wilford, Broad Bay Pioneers, 1998