Scores of accounts about the Rose farm lead off with something like “at the farm of George Rose . . .” What most don’t realize is that George Rose was not only not living at the farm, he wouldn’t do so until at least 1868. So who was actually there, and how were they affected? And was George himself affected? The answers may seem a little surprising.

George W. Rose was a Philadelphia butcher from Germantown (a neighborhood in Philadelphia) who in March 1858 purchased a 230-acre farm just south of Gettysburg (along the Emmitsburg Road) from Jacob Benner for about $8,050. (The farm was just a couple of miles southwest of the property of Abraham Brian.) He bought the property together with his wife, Dorothy Rose, and the farm included a stone house (built 1811-1824) and barn (built 1812). Despite owning the farm, George did not actually reside there during the Civil War years – evidence suggests he only moved to Gettysburg around 1868. Instead, he arranged for his brother John P. Rose to occupy and manage the farm in his absence. John had been listed as a grocer/butcher in Philadelphia before 1861 but relocated to Gettysburg to run the farm for George. According to the 1860 census, John Rose, his wife Elizabeth Rose, and their seven children (three under age 10 and four teenagers) were living in the farmhouse as of 1860. The two eldest children were daughters (teens in 1860), and the household also included several hired workers: an elderly woman, Elizabeth Lippincott, listed as a domestic servant; a younger woman, Martha Welsh, listed as “help”; a 50-year-old farmhand John Miller; and a 14-year-old hired boy named Eli Leech. In total, up to seven adults and eleven children may have been living on the Rose farm when the battle began.

Genealogical context: The Rose family appears to have been of German Palatine descent originally – one genealogical source notes that John and George Rose’s family was connected to a New Jersey Rose lineage (“Group D Roses of the Palatinate”). George W. Rose was about 49 years old at the time of purchase in 1858 (born around 1808-1809), and his brother John was about six years younger with a large family. George and Dorothy Rose may have had children of their own as well. In fact, records show they had at least one son, George W. Rose Jr., who later assisted in filing an affidavit for his father’s Gettysburg damage claim in the 1870s. The Rose Family Association’s newsletter has even published research on this family and their farm, reflecting continued genealogical interest.

Francis Ogden and the Tenant Family on the Rose Farm

Living alongside the Rose family in 1863 was the tenant farming family of Francis C. Ogden. Francis Ogden (about 44 years old in 1863) was a professional farmer whom George Rose had engaged to work a portion of the land. The arrangement was that John Rose would occupy the farm rent-free (managing it on George’s behalf) while Francis Ogden farmed it; George retained a 50% share of all crop yields, and Francis Ogden was given full rights to two of the farm’s wheatfields (distinct from the famous Wheatfield) for his own use. Francis lived on the property with his wife and four sons – indeed, sources indicate the Ogden family likely shared the main farmhouse with the Roses due to its large size. The eldest Ogden son, Charles Francis Ogden (age 17), was listed as a farm laborer in 1860 and had enlisted in Company B, 138th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry in August 1862. (This regiment was not present at Gettysburg; during the battle, Pvt. Charles F. Ogden and the 138th P.V.I. were a few miles south escorting supply wagons from Harpers Ferry. Tragically, Charles would later be killed in action in the Mine Run campaign in November 1863.) Francis Ogden’s three younger sons (all likely under 17) remained at home during the battle. Contemporary records do not name Francis’s wife in 1863, but genealogical evidence suggests Francis had been married at least twice, probably three times. Records indicate he was married to a Mary Polly or Polley and may have had his first children with her. Mary seems unlikely to have lived past the early 1850s. A Gettysburg newspaper announcement from the 1850s shows that in June 1856 he married a young woman named Eliza Polly (possibly or likely the sister of Mary)– sadly, Eliza (Polly) Ogden died later in 1856 at only 16 years old. In 1857, he married Mary Lucinda Biesecker, and she was present on the farm during the battle along with their children.

Francis Ogden himself was a Pennsylvania native born January 31, 1818. He appears to have been part of a long-established Adams County family (records show an earlier Francis Ogden in Gettysburg, possibly his father). After the war, Francis Ogden continued to reside in the Gettysburg area for many years – he ultimately died in Gettysburg on June 27, 1894 at age 76 and was buried in Gettysburg’s Evergreen Cemetery. (His wife at the time and his surviving sons’ later lives are less documented, but they likely remained in Pennsylvania. For instance, one of his younger sons appears to have been William W. Ogden, who was born around 1875 in Gettysburg and is buried in Evergreen Cemetery as well.)

The Rose Farm on the Eve of Battle (Summer 1863)

By late June 1863, Gettysburg’s civilians were on high alert due to approaching Confederate forces, and those living on farms south of town braced for danger. The Rose farm, with its 230 acres of fields and woodlots, lay directly in the path of what would become some of the battle’s worst carnage. Tenant farmer Francis Ogden took proactive measures as the armies neared: he sent his valuable livestock – nine sheep – to a friend’s farm about five miles away on the Fairfield Road to try to save them from foraging soldiers (unfortunately, Confederate troops seized those sheep anyway). He also would have known that his two wheat fields on the farm (the fields southeast of the house, not the famous Wheatfield) were about to become a battleground. John Rose, however, was not as well prepared as Ogden when war arrived on his doorstep. As Confederate forces approached on July 1, John Rose hurriedly evacuated his family from the farm for their safety. It’s not clear whether the Ogden family also left at that time, but most likely they did – nearly all civilians in the immediate combat zone fled or took shelter once fighting began. We do know that John Rose left behind most of his household goods in the rush, which would later be ravaged by troops, whereas Ogden at least attempted to safeguard some property (like his livestock) in advance.

On July 2, 1863 (the second day of battle), the area around the Rose farm exploded into violence. The property’s terrain included key features that both armies coveted: a rocky wooded rise called Stony Hill and the adjacent Rose Woods, as well as a large cultivated field northeast of the house that soon earned the infamous name “The Wheatfield.” That afternoon, Confederate divisions under Major General James Longstreet swept over the Rose farm from multiple directions in an effort to crush the Union left flank. Around 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers clashed back-and-forth across Rose’s twenty-acre Wheatfield and surrounding pastures in brutal, often hand-to-hand combat. In just a few hours, more than 6,000 men were killed or wounded on the Rose property. The stone farmhouse and barn, with their thick walls, became defensive positions – Confederate soldiers from Kershaw’s and Semmes’ brigades used the buildings for cover during the fight. After the Wheatfield fight subsided, the Rose house and barn were pressed into service as a Confederate field hospital, sheltering hundreds of wounded. Hundreds of soldiers died in and around the buildings. Between 500 and 1,000 Confederate dead were ultimately buried on the Rose farm’s grounds (initially in shallow graves) after the battle. Famed Civil War photographer Alexander Gardner arrived days later and captured some of Gettysburg’s most haunting images on the Rose acreage – including scenes of Southern casualties strewn near the edge of Rose Woods awaiting burial.

Aftermath: Damage to the Farm and Immediate Impacts on the Families

When the guns fell silent, the Rose farm was utterly devastated. John Rose and Francis Ogden returned to a scene of horror and destruction. Their once-profitable fields were trampled and stained with blood. Fences and crops were obliterated. The house and barn had been battered and were filled with wounded (and, later, corpses). The yard and orchard were pockmarked with graves and scattered with ammunition and debris. John Rose’s wife and children, who had fled for their lives, now faced the grim task of cleaning up a “human desecration” on their property. It’s little wonder that this farm earned the nickname “the bloodiest farm in America” in Gettysburg lore. Gregory Coco, in A Strange and Blighted Land, noted that bodies were buried next to the front door; the garden had at least ten officers that John Rose ultimately dumped in the woods in order to preserve his well.

The families documented extensive property losses and damage. Both the Roses and Ogden would later file official claims seeking compensation. From those records we get a detailed picture of the destruction:

• Francis Ogden reported that two entire wheat fields under his care were “fought over and entirely destroyed” by the armies on July 2-3, 1863. He valued the lost wheat at $481. In addition, the nine sheep he had tried to save were taken by Confederate raiders (loss of $45). Ogden’s total claim for wartime losses was $526. However, his claim was rejected by the U.S. government. The postwar federal review concluded that since the wheat was simply destroyed in battle (not seized for Army use) and the sheep were taken by Confederates (not the Union), the government was not liable to pay anything. All evidence suggests Mr. Ogden received no compensation at all for his losses.
• John P. Rose (George’s brother) filed a more extensive claim for the personal property his family lost. In a Pennsylvania state claim in November 1868, John listed about $750 worth of damages, including the loss of a cow and a heifer (both “killed in battle”), 50 bushels each of oats and corn taken by Union troops, and numerous household goods ruined by the Confederates. The Rose home’s furniture, beds, carpets, clothing, and provisions had been plundered or destroyed; John even claimed 70 yards of imported carpet and an equal amount of homemade carpet spoiled by rebel soldiers. In 1871, Pennsylvania commissioners did award John Rose $600 for his claim (a partial payment – for example, they only allowed $40 for one cow and disallowed the heifer, and similarly trimmed the amounts for other items). However, it’s unclear if he ever actually got that money in hand. By 1874, John swore in a federal claim affidavit that he had received no payment yet for those losses. He pursued additional federal relief, but like most Gettysburg farmers, likely saw little or no reimbursement in the end. (The bureaucratic hurdles were immense – fewer than 2% of Pennsylvania claims were ever approved by the U.S. government.)
• George W. Rose (the owner) likewise filed claims, though he had not personally been on site during the battle. His claims mirrored his brother’s, and he estimated over $3,300 in damages to the farm – including destruction of fencing, crops, fruit trees, timber, etc., by both armies. George and Dorothy Rose gave a deposition in November 1868 for their state claim, and George (with help from his son and a neighbor) filed a detailed federal claim in 1874. Ultimately, George’s claims were never approved – investigators decided that the Union army’s “legitimate use” of the property was minimal (the farm was simply too hotly contested to serve as a stable Union encampment), and most damage was due to the general combat and Confederate actions, which were not compensable. After years of back-and-forth, George Rose’s claims were dismissed without payment by 1882.

Beyond financial loss, the psychological toll on the Rose family was severe. The Rose farm had literally become a graveyard – hundreds of soldiers’ bodies lay buried on the grounds in the months following the battle. The family living there had to contend with the sight (and stench) of death long after the armies departed. Local accounts describe how one of John and Elizabeth Rose’s daughters was deeply traumatized by these gruesome surroundings. She suffered what we would now recognize as post-traumatic stress – chronic nightmares and hysterical episodes – in the years after the battle. Gettysburg physician Dr. John O’Neal’s ledger records that he visited the Rose farmhouse multiple times in March 1870 to treat one of the Rose girls, ultimately resorting to the use of a straitjacket for her condition. The doctor noted that she seemed to have been “driven mad” – and John Rose himself believed his daughter’s insanity was caused by the countless Confederate graves scattered around their home. The Rose daughter is not named in these sources, but it seems likely to have been their oldest, Mary Josephine. Mary Jo never married and never appeared in records after the 1870 census. It appears that she passed away and was buried in the neighborhood cemetery where her mother grew up. This heartbreaking situation shows the human cost that local civilians bore; neighbors in Gettysburg were well aware of the Rose farm’s grisly burden, and one can imagine the sympathy (and horror) it elicited in the community.

What Became of the Rose and Ogden Families After Gettysburg?

The Battle of Gettysburg marked the beginning of the end of the Rose family’s time on the farm. John P. Rose tried to continue farming there in the post-war years, but the legacy of devastation made it difficult. The farm was mired in debt and tangled in legal trusts. In fact, as early as 1861, George Rose had placed the property in a trust under a friend’s name (likely to shield it from his creditors). After the war, George repeatedly mortgaged the farm to pay off debts, only to incur new debts – at one point he was juggling at least seven different creditors. The situation grew dire: in 1871 the Adams County sheriff seized the farm due to unpaid debts, and after further legal twists, the property was briefly lost in a forced sale in 1873 (a buyer paid only $100 for it at sheriff’s auction). George Rose managed to regain partial ownership through complicated deals (at one point even buying the farm back from a purchaser for $9,000), but the financial strain was enormous.

Meanwhile, John Rose and family left Gettysburg. In 1875 John attempted to sell off all his household belongings (perhaps an auction notice even ran in the local paper), presumably as a step toward moving away. In the end that 1875 sale fell through, but within a few years John did pack up and return to Philadelphia. He reappears in the Philadelphia city directory by 1879. The Rose farm was simply not a viable or healthy home for them any longer. (One can imagine that after burying and reburying scores of dead soldiers and struggling to rebuild their lives, the family was eager to start anew elsewhere.) The records do not indicate exactly when John died, but he was no longer in Gettysburg after the late 1870s.

George and Dorothy Rose had moved onto the farm in 1868, but they, too, did not remain much beyond a decade. By 1875 – around the same time John left – George W. Rose gave up and moved back to Germantown (Philadelphia). The constant creditor pressure and perhaps the haunted nature of the place proved too much. George finally sold the farm for good in 1880, ending the Rose family’s 22-year ownership of the property. (They sold to a local couple, William and Rosanna Wible, who, tellingly, soon sold a portion of the land to the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association to preserve the Wheatfield as hallowed ground.) George’s health was also failing by then. He died on January 20, 1882 at age 73, succumbing to stomach cancer. Little is recorded about Dorothy after the sale – she likely went with George back to Philadelphia; her name appears on the deeds and mortgages as having had legal control of the farm during the trust years, but her later life is obscure.

As for Francis Ogden and his family, the historical trail is quieter. The Ogden family’s post-battle fate is not well documented in the immediate records. They appear to have continued their association with the Rose farm for at least some time after 1863, but by the later 1860s or 1870s, they no longer feature in the farm’s story. Perhaps the Ogdens moved to another farm in the area or pursued opportunities elsewhere. We do know that Francis Ogden lived out his days in Adams County. He is listed in local records for decades after the war and ultimately died in 1894 in Gettysburg. He was buried in the town cemetery, suggesting that he remained a respected local citizen. It’s possible that after the Roses left, Ogden found work on other farms or that he and his surviving sons became farmers in their own right in the county. (Unfortunately, no specific local commentary about Francis Ogden’s reputation or the family’s post-war life has surfaced in the sources consulted.)

One poignant coda: In later years, the sheer scale of death at the Rose farm became part of local memory. The Roses themselves reportedly estimated that at least 1,000 soldiers had been buried on their land. The farm gained a ghostly reputation – some in the area whispered of lingering spirits among the Rose Woods (modern ghost tour tales often feature the “Rose Farm” as a haunted site, owing to those mass graves, and even shortly after the battle, Emanuel Bushman was telling ghost stories about the nearby Bushman farms). Neighbors also recalled with unease the morbid sights immediately after the battle: one neighbor, Philip Snyder (whose father had sold land to Benner years before), corroborated much of the damage in affidavits and surely, like others, viewed the Rose family with empathy for what they endured. There isn’t much written in period newspapers about the personal opinions neighbors had of John Rose or Francis Ogden, but given that John was involved in local Republican politics in the post-war years and that both families were long-time Adams County people, we can infer they were known in the community. The shared trauma of the battle likely created sympathy for these families among other Gettysburg residents.

In sum, the George Rose farm (often called the Rose Woods or Rose Wheatfield area) stands out not just for its battlefield fame but also for the human stories of the Rose and Ogden families. Genealogists and historians have pieced together their saga from census data, newspaper clippings, damage claim files, and personal accounts. It is a story of an enterprising family whose investment turned into a nightmare, of a tenant farmer trying to protect his livelihood amid chaos, and of families who picked up the pieces of their lives after witnessing one of the Civil War’s bloodiest episodes literally in their front yard. The Rose and Ogden families’ experiences – fleeing their home, suffering enormous losses, petitioning for redress, and struggling with trauma – offer a window into what Gettysburg’s civilians faced. As one Gettysburg writer aptly put it, theirs was a tale of “blood, sweat, and tears” in the war’s wake – a sobering reminder that Gettysburg’s legacy was not only written in military histories, but also in the hardships and resilience of its local people.