Previously, we looked at the case of Isadore Keefer, Caroline Shenabrook, and John Wolford. You may recall that Shenabrook had a child out of wedlock with Isadore Keefer—a girl named Annie that we’ll cover in a subsequent article. However, census and death records show she also had three other children out of wedlock with a man named John Wolford.

So who was John Wolford? In broad terms, he and Isadore Keefer had a lot in common. Both were Adams County residents and Union veterans. Both joined units that saw hard fighting and were deeply blood-stained. Both died in their mid-fifties. And both fathered children with Caroline Shenabrook. But there were important differences as well.

John Wolford was born July 10, 1835, in Adams County. He was one of at least nine children of Richard and Martha Wolford, a farming family. In the 1850 census, 15-year-old John appears in his father Richard’s household in Adams County, alongside numerous siblings (Lydia, Eliza, Mary, Catharine, Jacob, Elias, George, Barbara – a veritable clan). The Wolfords were long-established locals; Richard Wolford (b. 1801) died in 1869 and Martha in 1883, and they, along with several children, are buried in Evergreen Cemetery in Gettysburg. Growing up, John likely worked on the family farm and learned the values of hard work and community that rural life instilled.

When the Civil War erupted, John was 27 years old. Though initial details of his service were elusive, ongoing research confirms that John Wolford served in the Union Army. In fact, county records show that he was a Private in Company D of the 101st Pennsylvania Infantry. Enlisting in late 1864, John missed all the action the 101st PA would have seen action in the eastern theater. The 101st fought in North Carolina and at the Battle of Fair Oaks, and in April 1864 a large portion of the regiment was captured at Plymouth, NC. But John seems to have missed all these—records indicate that he enlisted no earlier than August 1864, possibly as conscription replacements for those captured from the 101st at Plymouth, NC.

Either way, by war’s end in 1865, John Wolford was a veteran in his own right. His service is corroborated by the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) marker that would later be placed by his grave. The GAR was the Union veterans’ organization, and having a cast-iron star flag-holder with “GAR” by one’s tombstone was a proud sign of one’s status as a Civil War veteran.

John’s relationship with Caroline Shenabrook appears to have started a few months before his enlistment (John Andrew Wolford was 16 in the 1880 Census, placing his birth in 1864 some time), and it’s possible that a pregnancy might have driven him to enlist (as could conscription or the possibility of it). The Army, after all, promised a steady paycheck.

Upon John’s return, the relationship must have resumed—Daniel was born in 1866 and William in 1868. Still, the two appear never to have married, and in 1869, Caroline took Isadore to court on charges of adultery, fornication, and bastardy that resulted in Annie Keefer’s birth.

In 1880, John is found living back on his parents’ farm, working there and possibly running the farm. This is the same census in which Caroline is living with their three sons, retaining her own last name but giving her sons their father’s surname.

John’s later years saw him residing in the New Oxford area of Adams County. He was not a rich man, but he was a contributing member of the community. He would have attended veterans’ reunions or GAR meetings in Gettysburg, swapping war stories and advocating for soldier pensions. In early 1892, John fell ill. He died on February 7, 1892, at the age of 56. His death was noted as occurring in New Oxford, suggesting he lived there at the end. The local GAR post ensured he was honored in burial. John was laid to rest in Gettysburg’s historic Evergreen Cemetery, the very cemetery on Cemetery Hill that had figured in the Battle of Gettysburg decades earlier. There, John’s grave received a GAR marker, indicating the community’s recognition of his veteran status. His tombstone (erected apparently by his surviving siblings) is inscribed with the touching epitaph, “He has gone to the mansion in the sky.” Indeed, one poignant detail is that John’s tombstone was arranged by his “Brothers and Sisters,” as the stone itself reads, suggesting that his kin took care of his burial – perhaps an indication that Caroline had died earlier or had limited means. (Caroline’s own death date is unclear, but she may have predeceased John or moved in with one of her children in her later years.)

When he passed, John took many secrets to his grave. We don’t know his involvement with his children and very little about his relationships with his surrounding family members. We know a few facts about his military service and his time on the family farm, but little else. We know that Caroline thought well enough of him to have her children take his name, and we know she never took him to court, as she did Isadore. Other than that, their relationship can only be described in the limited records available to us from a time of turmoil.