Following her musician husband across the Western United States, while stationed at Ft. Reno in the Oklahoma Territory in the early 1890s, she gave birth to their two sons, Frederick D. Gross and David C. Gross. She and the boys were also able to join the Bandmaster during the Spanish-American War at Matanzas Barracks, Cuba. Upon his return from a subsequent unaccompanied tour of duty in the Philippines, he developed a fatal brain tumor and died in 1906 at Ft. Lawton, Washington, leaving Georgiana to care for their teen-age sons. Sadly, David suffered from epilepsy and needed virtually constant care.
Because the War Department challenged her application for a widow's pension, hoping to get help for her boys, she endured two subsequent failed marriages. Eventually moving to La Jolla in San Diego County, she continued to petition the government for financial assistance until her death in 1950.
The inscription on her gravestone, "Curfew Will Not Ring Tonight," is the last line of the poem by Rose Hartwick Thorpe (1850-1939) that her husband, Frederick D. Gross, had written out on his personal 5th Cavalry Bandmaster stationery. It tells of a young woman who climbed the stairs of a bell tower and clung to the tongue of the bell so that her lover would not be executed when curfew was to be sounded that night.
Following her musician husband across the Western United States, while stationed at Ft. Reno in the Oklahoma Territory in the early 1890s, she gave birth to their two sons, Frederick D. Gross and David C. Gross. She and the boys were also able to join the Bandmaster during the Spanish-American War at Matanzas Barracks, Cuba. Upon his return from a subsequent unaccompanied tour of duty in the Philippines, he developed a fatal brain tumor and died in 1906 at Ft. Lawton, Washington, leaving Georgiana to care for their teen-age sons. Sadly, David suffered from epilepsy and needed virtually constant care.
Because the War Department challenged her application for a widow's pension, hoping to get help for her boys, she endured two subsequent failed marriages. Eventually moving to La Jolla in San Diego County, she continued to petition the government for financial assistance until her death in 1950.
The inscription on her gravestone, "Curfew Will Not Ring Tonight," is the last line of the poem by Rose Hartwick Thorpe (1850-1939) that her husband, Frederick D. Gross, had written out on his personal 5th Cavalry Bandmaster stationery. It tells of a young woman who climbed the stairs of a bell tower and clung to the tongue of the bell so that her lover would not be executed when curfew was to be sounded that night.
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