The Mystery of the Bouncing Man: A Pogo Stick Legend in Grove City History

Grove City, Ohio, like many long-established towns, is steeped in local history—stories of its founding in 1852, its ties to agriculture, and the transformation from a quiet village to a thriving suburb. The Southwest Franklin County Historical Society diligently preserves the narratives of early settlers, the advent of the railroad, and the post-WWII boom. Yet, one of the most unique and often-whispered historical footnotes involves an individual known simply as "The Pogo Stick Man."

This local legend centers on a man who, during the mid-20th century, became an unofficial, eccentric icon by navigating the streets of Grove City almost exclusively on a pogo stick. Unlike the brief, novelty use of the toy by children, the Pogo Stick Man treated his spring-loaded stilt as a primary, if unconventional, mode of transportation.

The exact identity of the man is often debated or lost to time, with his frequent appearances across Grove City providing a steady topic of conversation and amusement for decades. His presence was not just a one-off stunt but a sustained commitment to his unique bouncing journey, making him a memorable part of the local scenery.

While definitive, published historical accounts from the local historical society regarding the Pogo Stick Man's whole life story or name are scarce, his memory endures through the oral histories of longtime residents. These recollections paint a picture of a friendly, recognizable figure whose rhythmic boing-boing-boing on the sidewalks and along Broadway—the town's main artery—was as much a part of Grove City's background noise as the rumble of traffic.

My Grandparents, Henry and Kathleen Roberts, moved to Grove City, Ohio, just after World War II, from Springfield, Ohio. My grandfather found a job working at the General Motors assembly plant off Georgesville Road on the West Side of Columbus. Now, my Grandfather worked during the day and used his GI Bill in the evenings to build skills and supplement his formal education. Meanwhile, my Grandmother, Kathleen, was at home with their young daughter Connie Jo. There was widespread gossip about the infamous Pogo stick man, and being alone on a country road, which is now a part of Sonora Drive, but was once out in the country, my Grandmother was terrified. She could imagine the Pogo Stick man leaping over fences and getting into all sorts of trouble. She'd hear something outside or some unknown visitor would come to the door, and she'd grab little Connie and hide under the bed. But nothing ever came of it, and neither my Grandmother nor Grandfather ever actually saw the man on the Pogo Stick. Yet, the legend lives on.

His dedication to the pogo stick, a toy patented by George Hansburg in 1919 and initially popularized in the "Roaring Twenties," was a charming anachronism in a rapidly modernizing town. It speaks to a certain spirit of individuality and quirkiness that has always found a home in the heartland. He was a piece of living folk art, a whimsical counterpoint to the town’s earnest civic development.

The Pogo Stick Man is a reminder that history isn't just about significant dates and famous figures; it’s also composed of the unique characters and oddities that give a place its character. He became a small, bouncing monument to local distinctiveness —a man who chose an unexpected path for his daily commute and, in doing so, etched himself into the enduring, often colorful history of Grove City, Ohio. Though the hops have long since ceased, the tale of the Bouncing Man continues to spring up in conversations, ensuring his legacy remains one of the town’s most fondly remembered historical mysteries.

Bibliography:

* Books and General History

Shailer, Janet, and Laura Lanese. Grove City. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2008. (This is a common source for local Grove City history, providing general context on the town's founding and growth.)

Southwest Franklin County Historical Society. "History of Grove City: A Chronology." Accessed October 2, 2025. https://www.swfchs.org/. (Used for general dates like the 1852 founding and information on Broadway and the town's development.)

White, Amy. "Henry Bascom Roberts and Verlie Kathleen Strut: A Short History of Two Extraordinary Lives." Published April 29, 2022. Independently Published. ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8813916496 

* Specific Invention History (Providing Pogo Stick Context)

"The History of the Pogo Stick." Katy Spring. Last modified July 10, 2018. https://katyspring.com/2018/07/10/the-history-of-katy-spring-pogo-stick/. (Used for facts about George Hansburg, the 1919 patent, and the pogo stick's popularity in the 1920s.)

"Pogo stick." Wikipedia. Last modified September 28, 2025. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pogo_stick. (Used to verify inventors Max Pohlig and Ernst Gottschall, the name origin, and the general timeline of the device's popularity.)

* Local Historical Archives (Acknowledging Source for Unverified Anecdote)

Southwest Franklin County Historical Society. "Oral History." Accessed October 2, 2025. https://www.swfchs.org/. (Used to acknowledge that the story of the Pogo Stick Man falls into the category of local oral history and local lore, which the society collects and preserves.)

More Than Just Dates: How Dr. Jacob H. Dorn Shaped My Worldview and Life

Today, I want to take a moment to celebrate a truly impactful figure in my academic journey: Dr. Jacob H. Dorn, Ph.D. From 2005 to 2008, I had the incredible privilege of being his student at Wright State University, and those years fundamentally altered my trajectory in the best possible way. If you're a student, an educator, or just someone who appreciates a good story about mentorship, stick around!

Dr. Dorn wasn't just a professor who lectured from a textbook. He was a master of historical inquiry, bringing dusty old documents to life with vibrant stories and critical insights. I learned an immense amount about history itself, of course, from the nuances of European intellectual movements to the complexities of American social change. But more than just facts and figures, he instilled in me the art of historical research. He taught us how to dissect primary sources, identify bias, construct compelling arguments, and, perhaps most importantly, to think like a historian.

Regarding historical writing, before his classes, I was a decent writer. Dr. Dorn, with his meticulous feedback and unwavering commitment to clarity and precision, showed me the true meaning of academic prose. He pushed us to refine our arguments, polish our sentences, and write with both intellectual rigor and engaging style. The skills he helped me hone in those undergraduate years were instrumental in my later success.

It was this profound impact that directly inspired me to pursue my own Master of Arts in European History. The passion for understanding the past, the thrill of uncovering new perspectives, and the satisfaction of crafting well-supported historical narratives – these were all seeds planted and nurtured by Dr. Dorn.

Beyond the classroom, Dr. Dorn's own scholarly achievements were awe-inspiring. He was a distinguished scholar of American intellectual and religious history. His book, "Socialism and Christianity in Early 20th Century America," is a seminal work in the field, meticulously exploring the fascinating intersection of faith and political ideology. He also served as the editor for "Socialism and the Cities," further cementing his reputation as a leading voice in understanding American social movements. His rigorous research and insightful analyses have left a lasting mark on the academic community.

Throughout his career at Wright State University, Dr. Dorn served as a dedicated professor of history for an astounding 36 years. He wasn't just publishing groundbreaking research; he was actively shaping generations of students, just like me. He held various leadership roles within the history department, including serving as its chair. His commitment to the institution and his students was evident in every interaction. He was known for his thoughtful lectures, his challenging yet fair assignments, and his genuine interest in the intellectual development of those under his tutelage.

Even after his well-deserved retirement in 2006, Dr. Dorn's intellectual curiosity didn't wane. He continued to be actively involved in academic pursuits, attending conferences, and contributing to scholarly discussions. He remained a vibrant member of the historical community, always eager to engage with new ideas and offer his seasoned perspective. His legacy of scholarship and teaching continued to resonate long after he stepped down from his professorial duties.

Sadly, Dr. Dorn passed away in 2017. While it was an untimely loss, his impact continues to ripple through the lives of countless former students and fellow academics. He was more than just a professor; he was a mentor, an inspiration, and a true scholar. I am eternally grateful for the time I spent learning from him, and I carry the lessons he taught me about history, research, and life itself every single day. If you have ever had the chance to be in Dr. Dorn's classroom, I'm sure you understand exactly what I mean. Let's remember and celebrate the educators who genuinely make a difference!

The Unseen Frontline: A Contractor's View of the Buckeye Environmental Network's Fight Against Fracking

 Having worked as a contractor to support the Buckeye Environmental Network (BEN), I gained an intimate look into the tireless and often underappreciated work of grassroots environmentalism in Ohio. The fight against big oil fracking in southeastern Ohio isn't a headline-grabbing story with easy victories; it's a grinding, deeply personal battle fought house by house, well by well. The work I did—helping to promote their initiatives—gave me a front-row seat to the resilience of a community and the dedication of an organization that refuses to back down, led by the late former Director Teresa Mills. This isn't just a story about politics and pollution; it's about the soul of a community fighting for its right to a clean and healthy home.

The reality of fracking in places like Athens, Noble, and Washington counties is far from the industry's polished image. In these rural, often Appalachian communities, the promise of economic prosperity often rings hollow in the face of contaminated water, polluted air, and the industrialization of once-pristine landscapes. My work involved amplifying the voices of those directly affected, translating their very real fears and observations into compelling narratives. These weren't activists in the abstract; they were farmers worried about their livestock, grandparents concerned for their grandchildren, and long-time residents watching their quiet corners of the world turn into industrial zones.

BEN, originally the Buckeye Forest Council, has a long history of protecting Ohio's natural heritage, starting with its forests. With the rise of deep-shale drilling and fracking in the 2010s, the organization pivoted to confront this new, more pervasive threat. From my position, I saw how BEN served as a crucial nerve center, led by former Director Teresa Mills as she tirelessly answered community calls to help organize, research, and market legislative initiatives from the ground up. Local groups, such as the Athens County Fracking Action Network (ACFAN) and Torch Can Do!, were the boots on the ground, and BEN provided them with the technical assistance, data, and organizing support they needed to be effective. It was a network of solidarity, linking fledgling activists with seasoned organizers, all united by a common purpose.

Former Director Teresa Mills was a formidable environmental justice advocate and a central figure in the Buckeye Environmental Network (BEN) for many years. She co-founded BEN and served as its executive director, dedicating decades to empowering communities against toxic pollution and corporate polluters.

Before tackling fracking, her activism began with the successful leadership of a community campaign to shut down the Columbus garbage incinerator, later identified as the country's largest dioxin emitter. This early victory established her reputation as a tenacious and effective grassroots leader.

As fracking spread across Ohio, Mills shifted BEN's focus to combating the industry's harms, particularly those associated with toxic injection wells. Her work involved providing technical assistance and organizing support to fledgling activist groups in southeastern Ohio, helping them challenge the placement of dangerous waste disposal sites. Mills was renowned for her profound understanding of toxic chemicals and her unwavering dedication to empowering people to find their voice in advocating for a safer, cleaner environment. In 2017, she was honored with the Appalachian Advocate Award for her dedication to the well-being of the region's communities. Her powerful legacy lives on through the communities she empowered and the work and communities that BEN continues to advocate for against pollution.

A primary focus of BEN's work—and a significant part of my contracting—was opposing toxic injection wells. These wells serve as disposal sites for the billions of gallons of radioactive and chemical-laden wastewater produced by the fracking process. In southeastern Ohio, the landscape is dotted with these wells, threatening to contaminate underground water sources and drinking wells. Through grassroots outreach, BEN empowered local citizens with the information and tools to challenge the siting of these wells in their communities. It was a fight against a seemingly insurmountable foe, as the Ohio Department of Natural Resources (ODNR) was often perceived as lax in enforcing regulations. Yet, I saw firsthand the determination of residents who, with BEN's guidance, navigated complex legal and bureaucratic processes to protect their homes.

One of the most powerful strategies I helped with was promoting BEN's "Right to Know" campaign. The organization highlighted Ohio's noncompliance with federal laws requiring companies to report the use of toxic chemicals, prompting the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to intervene. This work was about more than just data; it was about transparency and accountability. Communities had a right to know what chemicals were being pumped into the ground near their homes, and BEN made sure that right was not ignored.

The work I did was not always a straightforward, linear path to success, and it mainly focused on writing as a Communications Specialist. There were setbacks—for every auction of public land for fracking that was blocked, another would be approved. The frustrating reality was that the fight was more about containment than a clear victory. But what I observed was that the goal wasn't just to stop every well; it was to empower people. By giving citizens the knowledge and tools to hold the industry and government accountable, BEN was building something more lasting than a single lawsuit win. They were cultivating a culture of informed, engaged, and resilient citizenship.

Looking back, my time as a contractor for BEN was a lesson in the power of grassroots organizing. It demonstrated that while big oil may have vast resources, it can be countered by the collective will of determined communities. The people of southeastern Ohio, with the crucial support of the Buckeye Environmental Network, showed me that a fight isn't over just because it's difficult. It continues in community meetings, over kitchen tables, and in the persistent, powerful voice of citizens demanding a healthy future for their homes and their children. The fight against fracking is ongoing, but the foundation of resistance built by BEN and its community partners is a legacy that will endure.

World Suicide Prevention Day: A Widow's Experience

Life seems to move so fast anymore, but there are still those creeping moments where everything comes to a standstill, and you get to just be present. The seasons keep changing, my son keeps growing, the work-week flows, and the weekends fly by, and I have found myself, more and more, looking up to the sky and wondering where Keith is and if he's looking back at me. 

I believe he's in heaven, my faith tells me he is there, but my mind knows that I don't definitely know what I hope. I wish I could know for sure, but I just have to keep my faith that it is true. 

Being a widow at a young age, which is all I know, comes with a multitude of issues. There's the general just after period when you are calling everyone who was ever connected to them, sorting through tax forms, medical insurance, pensions, and, if you're prepared, life-insurance policies. Then there's that middle ground of silence. No one really knows what to say; the phone calls stop, and the awkward exchange of words is over. You just utter the exact phrase to end those conversations, because you don't have enough energy, and all you have left to say is, "I'm fine."

But, I was not fine. 

My sweet Keith passed in the middle of October 2023. We were unprepared; we thought this was just going to be another fight against the leukemia. Little did we know that our days together were limited. Then there was the "mourning period", letting the horror soak in, planning the funeral, making arrangements, calling relatives, etc. In those early days, I kept my son home from school for the week; I just couldn't send him off into the world. We'd retreat each morning to my parents' house, where my sister and my parents were there to help me make decisions and keep me from losing it. It seemed that each evening someone would show up with a meal for all of us to eat. My brother's family would come over, and I welcomed the distraction. At the end of the day, we'd retreat home and sleep before repeating our process over again. 

Naturally, my worst critic at the time was me. I kept telling myself, "You can get through this." And I kept marching on, breaking down occasionally, but putting unrealistic timelines on my emotions. People kept telling me I was doing so well, but I was not. By the time we got through the Holidays, I was exhausted. Then came my birthday. I don't know why, but that just drove me into a deep depression. I wanted more than anything to have Keith by my side to celebrate my birthday, and despite the bitter reality that he could not be there, it crushed me that he was not there. I started to spiral. 

At the beginning of February 2024, things took a turn for the worse. I started craving to be with Keith in a way I can only describe as an addict wanting a drink or a hit. For the most part, I knew I could not leave my son; he had been through too much. But the voice in my head was hell-bent on waking up next to Keith, and I lied to myself. I told myself that no one would care, that my son would be better off, that life would go on without me, and I'd be free of this grief. 

These suicidal thoughts crept up on me and took down all my guards before I could really rally any strength to resist. By the 12th, I was deep in it. That night, I made a decision, without saying a word to anyone. I went to the bathroom and took 10 pills, naturally having looked up the toxicity required first on the internet, and I lay back in bed. I lay there for about ten minutes, when a feeling of nausea rolled over me and I thought, "Oh my God, what have I done?!" I jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet, stuck my finger down my throat and choked out 10 little white pills into the bowl below. 

I texted my best friend and told her what had happened. She was nothing but compassionate and told me to reach out if I needed anything else. Over the next two days, we were in constant communication. On February 13, 2024, I was working, and the urge to take more pills came on very strongly. I didn't know what else to do, so I texted my best friend. I don't remember what was said, but she rushed to my house and took me to the hospital, because I was not safe. I spent a week on the psych ward of a mental health hospital, I learned about my peers in there, I learned methods to calm myself, and I started a new regimen of medication. I came out of there feeling shaken and exposed. But I was safe. And safety is all that matters in those moments. 

I have struggled with Depression and Anxiety for most of my life. This was a combination of one cruel twist of life and my inability to cope, and for that matter, completely understandable. My mistakes were not utilizing the resources I had before me, not reaching out sooner, and trying to handle everything on my own while I plowed ahead in life despite the heartbreaking loss that was still so fresh. I am still moving through the grief process. It gets easier to hold your grief with time, the love is just as strong as ever, and I have my faith that I will see Keith again. But more than anything else, I have decided to live, and that decision is mine.

Please, if you have thoughts of self-harm or suicide, reach out, call 988, text your best friend, or go to the Emergency Room. Just keep going! I promise you, it gets better, one day at a time. There is no shame in surviving. 

Making My Own Decisions

 Growing up, I could have been a better decision-maker. I tended to go with the flow and complained if I didn't like the options. I met my husband at the end of my final year of undergraduate studies, and we became a team and made all our decisions for the next fifteen years together. I mean literally every decision. We had a rule that if it was over $100, we would also discuss purchases; it worked well and took the pressure off of him and me by doing it together. My last big buy without him present ended up in a telephone call to buy an Oculus for our son. I got the impulse to buy one at the store; they were on sale, and I secretly called Keith while Liam played with something. We discussed the pros and cons and whether or not I thought it would have any actual longevity as a purchase; I naturally thought yes, so Keith and I agreed, and I told Liam, and we bought it. 

My desktop at the moment, smiles and memories.

Now, I'm the sole adult in this family, parenting and doing everything alone, using my wit and thought processes. It's scary, to say the least. I have never in my life had to be the decision maker. I always had Keith's sage advice, and when I wanted the domineering one to just say no because we weren't sure. I am, truthfully, terrified of messing up so big that Liam and I lose everything. Keith left us enough; God bless that man, to be secure if I play my cards right. I have a full-time job now, but there is still this nagging insecurity that I'm a minute away from blowing all up. 

The point of all this rambling is that I'm deciding whether to finish my Ph.D. I love to write, read, and do all the things entailed in schoolwork (I know, I'm a super nerd). I have a mere four classes left before I start my dissertation, and I am stoked about the topic I have been working on. However, I'm also now the sole adult in the household, working full-time; I have my own mental health struggles, I am grieving (probably forever), and I have a beautifully blossoming son that I do not want to neglect. I know people do it and do so while working, but I don't know if I'm capable of achieving such things in this chapter of my life. My friend said that playing the what-if game will get me nowhere, and I quite agree, but I have to weigh the possibilities before committing to something so huge. Don't I? 

Honestly, I just need some advice. 

Widow

Even now, just over four months in, the word widow seems foreign. The first time I used it to describe myself, I cried on the phone to a stranger at the VA. Keith was a central part of my world, and now that world seems smaller and less grand. That world was unbearable in those first few days, but in time, I have learned to manage and carry that pain with me. 

Amy & Keith

The first days were some of the most challenging days of my life. Without Keith in the world, I could not focus, eat, or understand what was happening and how it was happening. Planning his funeral was one of the worst days. I could not wrap my mind around what I was doing and why. I could not bring myself to the realization that this was happening to us. And still, all I could worry about was Liam and how this affected him. 

Now it seems like everyone I know affected by his death is getting back to "normalcy," and we are still back at the beginning, trying to figure it all out. It is strange to suddenly change direction in life. I had been with Keith since I graduated college; he was there with me through all my major life events, and now I'm here alone, a single mother trying to grasp how to do this on my own, how to take care of my family and just survive. All things considered, we're doing well. Keith left enough for us to get our feet planted, and now it's just figuring out how to wade through the tidal waves of grief. 

Liam has been attending a bereavement class at school, and I have been attending Grief Share at church. We are coping well now. It was touch and go, especially in February, but I think I'm leaning toward God more now, which is helping. Liam is talking to me more about things, and we seem okay. But, as it is with me, I am constantly worried I'm missing the ball somewhere, especially as a Mother. I try my best, and that's all I can do now. It's tough, this new life, it really sucks at times. If you're traveling this unknown world of widowhood, as I am, a lesson I've learned of late is to give yourself a bit of grace. It is hard, and it does suck. 

If you stayed with me to the end, I appreciate you. Thanks for listening to my rambles. 

Strother West Roberts (1842-1897)

My third Great Grandfather, Strother West Roberts, was born on November 1, 1842, in Blaine, Kentucky, the heart of Eastern Kentucky, to John C. and Esther (Abbott) Roberts. Strother’s younger brother, Reuben C. Roberts, was born the following year on April 9, 1844; three more younger brothers and a sister joined the family. Two siblings, including his only sister Martha, died before Strother was ten years old. By the age of Nineteen, the United States had broken down into the Civil War. Both Strother and his younger brother Rueben were enlisted into the Union Army into the 14^th Kentucky Regiment, Company G, at Camp Wallace in Lawrence County, Kentucky.[1]

The Union’s 14^th Kentucky Infantry Regiment of the Civil War was a highly accomplished and engaged unit throughout the intense years of the American Civil War. In its three-year tenure, the unit engaged in many battles from their home city of Louisa, Kentucky, to distant battlefields in Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia. Strother West Roberts was enlisted at the rank of Private throughout his tenure in the 14^th Regiment. Perhaps, the most significant contribution to the Civil War was the regiments’ participation in the Battle for Atlanta. The Battle for Atlanta was a three-part struggle against Confederate forces to take the city of Atlanta.

1890 Veterans Schedules Federal Census - Strother Roberts 

           When General Ulysses S. Grant was appointed “Chief of all Union Armies,” under William T. Sherman, Grant drew up a “new strategy” to crush the Confederacy and win the war.[2] The first phase of Grant’s plan was to push through Robert E. Lee in Virginia, utilize Sherman to take the “other main Confederate force, the Army of Tennessee,” and push onward to take the city of Atlanta.[3] At that time, Atlanta was a critical hub for the Confederacy and would give the Union army a strategic advantage in achieving dominance in the southern states; while also laying the groundwork for Sherman’s eventual March to the Sea.

Strother and Rueben fought in the Battle for Atlanta as members of the 14^th  Regiment attached to the 18^th Brigade in the XXIII Corps of the Army of Ohio under Major General John M. Schofield. The Roberts brothers and the rest of the 14^th engaged the Confederates at Kolb’s Farm on June 22, 1864, Peachtree Creek on July 20, 1864, Utoy Creek, August 5-7^th, 1864, and Jonesboro, August 31-September 1^st, 1864.[4] On September 2, 1864, Sherman marched on Atlanta after nearly two months of battle.[5] The Battle of Atlanta ended with Union victory with heavy losses on both sides, with 34,500 American casualties, but the result was a “crucial” success for the Union.[6] The Union army cut off four routes of transportation of resources and supplies from the Confederate armies by taking Atlanta.[7] 

In total, Strother W. Roberts served the 14^th Kentucky Regiment for three years and six months and was not afforded any form of pension for disability or injury, while his brother Rueben was awarded a $4 a month pension having endured a bout of Bronchitis during his service.[8] When considering the sheer loss of life during the Civil War and even just the casualties endured by the 14^th Regiment, which lost 201 soldiers in battle and 147 from disease alone, the Roberts brothers were very fortunate to survive the war.[9]

Roberts Family Tree
1842-Present

             After the Civil War, Strother returned home to Lawrence County, Kentucky. In 1868, at the age of 25, Strother married Martha “Mattie” Carter in Lawrence, Kentucky, on February 6, 1868. Together, Strother and Martha bore six children, Esther, Ellen, Ella, Cora, George, and (my second great-grandfather) Henry Bascom Roberts in 1872. Mattie, unfortunately, died a little over a month after having her last son, Henry, on September 29, 1872, after just four years of marriage. Beyond that, little is known about this time. From census records, we know Strother was a farmer and now also taking care of a bustling family of six on his own. About two years later, Strother did marry again to Elizabeth F. Elam on September 3, 1874. According to 1880 and 1890 census records, Strother lived in Louisa, Kentucky as a farm laborer. In 1891, Strother’s father, John C. Roberts, passed away at the age of 84, and his mother passed in 1895 at the age of 86. On March 27, 1897, at 54 years old, Strother West Roberts died and was interred at the Yatesville Memorial Gardens Cemetery in Busseyville, Lawrence county, Kentucky.

Strother W. Roberts left behind an enduring legacy of American ideals and hardworking farmers. Strother’s youngest son Henry Bascom Roberts would have many children, work as a farm laborer and preach in the local Baptist Church. Henry Bascom Roberts would marry Louverna G. Ball and have many more children, including my Great Grandfather Dewey Wilson Roberts, who married Amba Lee Prince and had my grandfather Henry Bascom Roberts in 1924. My Grandpa, Henry Bascom Roberts, married Kathleen Strutt in 1946 and had my father, Timothy L. Roberts, in 1957. 

 

 

Bibliography

14th Kentucky Veterans: 1890 Veterans & Widows Census, Lawrence County, KY. n.d. http://freepages.rootsweb.com/~us14thkyinfantry/military/census/lawrenceky.html (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

Alfaro, Colonel Armando. “The Trail of the Civil War in Kentucky 1861-1865.” National Guard eMuseum: Kentuckians in Action. 2002. https://kynghistory.ky.gov/Our-History/History-of-the-Guard/Documents/ThePaperTrailoftheCivilWarinKY18611865%202.pdf (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

American Battle Field Trust. Atlanta: The Civil War. n.d. https://www.battlefields.org/learn/civil-war/battles/atlanta (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

Ancestry.com. 1890 Veterans Schedules of the U.S. Federal Census. 2005. www.ancestry.com (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

Ed. of Time-Life Books. Illustrated Atlas of the Civil War. Alexandria, Virginia: Time-Life Books, 1996.

Historical Data Systems, comp. . U.S., American Civil War Regiments, 1861-1866. 1999. www.ancestry.com (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

National Park Service. The Civil War: Soldiers and Sailors Database. n.d. https://www.nps.gov/civilwar/soldiers-and-sailors-database.htm (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

 Additional Resource Images: 

Strother Roberts Tombstone -Source: Find A Grave

Strother West Roberts (1842-1897)

1880 US Federal Census Record 
Strother Roberts Family Highlighted

 

Footnotes: 

---

[1] Historical Data Systems, comp. U.S., American Civil War Regiments, 1861-1866. 1999. www.ancestry.com (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

[2] Ed. of Time-Life Books. Illustrated Atlas of the Civil War. Alexandria, Virginia: Time-Life Books, 1996, 248.

[3] Ibid.

[4] National Park Service. The Civil War: Soldiers and Sailors Database. n.d. https://www.nps.gov/civilwar/soldiers-and-sailors-database.htm (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).14^th Kentucky Regiment.

[5] Ed. of Time-Life Books, 269.

[6] American Battle Field Trust. Atlanta: The Civil War. n.d. https://www.battlefields.org/learn/civil-war/battles/atlanta (accessed Oct. 5, 2021). Battle for Atlanta and The Atlanta Campaign.  

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ancestry.com. 1890 Veterans Schedules of the U.S. Federal Census. 2005. www.ancestry.com (accessed Oct. 5, 2021).

[9] Ibid.