My great-great-grandpap. He was the son of Wilhelm Wellek, a soldier (possibly an officer) in the Prussian Cavalry. With his wife Alice Neiman he had six children—Hugh, Alice, Frank, Joe, Annie, and George. He was born in Berlin, Germany, and lived the rest of his life in Westmoreland County, PA, after immigrating to America. His first job was taking care of the horses at St. Vincent's Church; later he worked in Latrobe for a beer company. Hugo was a parishioner at St. Vincent's Church. He was much respected and liked at his workplace and in the community.
In 1910 he and his co-worker John Lazarchik were killed when a train struck their delivery truck while they were out delivering beer to their Russian customers for the upcoming Orthodox Christmas. A number of other people's lives had already been claimed at this particular railroad crossing; on this night the accident was caused due to the rain. Both men were flung from the wagon upon impact; Mr. Lazarchik was killed instantly, but Hugo wasn't flung as far and thus lived for about 35 minutes following the accident. The impact of the train was so jolting that his socks and tightly-laced boots were torn off of his feet. This tragedy made the front-page news in the local papers and shocked and saddened the whole community. The article made note of the shocking fact that the people who came to the scene only sent a boy for a doctor and then began moving the thirty-plus beer kegs (all, amazingly, unbroken) to a safer location, leaving my still-breathing great-great-grandpap partly submerged in a ditch of water and with nearly every bone in his body broken. By the time several physicians had arrived at the scene, he was too far gone for them to do anything to save him. Mr. Lazarchik left behind a shocked grieving widow and seven orphans; Hugo left behind a shocked grieving widow and six orphans, the oldest of whom was fourteen, and the youngest of whom, my great-great-uncle George, was just a baby, only four months old.
In 1910 he and his co-worker John Lazarchik were killed when a train struck their delivery truck while they were out delivering beer to their Russian customers for the upcoming Orthodox Christmas. A number of other people's lives had already been claimed at this particular railroad crossing; on this night the accident was caused due to the rain. Both men were flung from the wagon upon impact; Mr. Lazarchik was killed instantly, but Hugo wasn't flung as far and thus lived for about 35 minutes following the accident. The impact of the train was so jolting that his socks and tightly-laced boots were torn off of his feet. This tragedy made the front-page news in the local papers and shocked and saddened the whole community. The article made note of the shocking fact that the people who came to the scene only sent a boy for a doctor and then began moving the thirty-plus beer kegs (all, amazingly, unbroken) to a safer location, leaving my still-breathing great-great-grandpap partly submerged in a ditch of water and with nearly every bone in his body broken. By the time several physicians had arrived at the scene, he was too far gone for them to do anything to save him. Mr. Lazarchik left behind a shocked grieving widow and seven orphans; Hugo left behind a shocked grieving widow and six orphans, the oldest of whom was fourteen, and the youngest of whom, my great-great-uncle George, was just a baby, only four months old.
My great-great-grandpap. He was the son of Wilhelm Wellek, a soldier (possibly an officer) in the Prussian Cavalry. With his wife Alice Neiman he had six children—Hugh, Alice, Frank, Joe, Annie, and George. He was born in Berlin, Germany, and lived the rest of his life in Westmoreland County, PA, after immigrating to America. His first job was taking care of the horses at St. Vincent's Church; later he worked in Latrobe for a beer company. Hugo was a parishioner at St. Vincent's Church. He was much respected and liked at his workplace and in the community.
In 1910 he and his co-worker John Lazarchik were killed when a train struck their delivery truck while they were out delivering beer to their Russian customers for the upcoming Orthodox Christmas. A number of other people's lives had already been claimed at this particular railroad crossing; on this night the accident was caused due to the rain. Both men were flung from the wagon upon impact; Mr. Lazarchik was killed instantly, but Hugo wasn't flung as far and thus lived for about 35 minutes following the accident. The impact of the train was so jolting that his socks and tightly-laced boots were torn off of his feet. This tragedy made the front-page news in the local papers and shocked and saddened the whole community. The article made note of the shocking fact that the people who came to the scene only sent a boy for a doctor and then began moving the thirty-plus beer kegs (all, amazingly, unbroken) to a safer location, leaving my still-breathing great-great-grandpap partly submerged in a ditch of water and with nearly every bone in his body broken. By the time several physicians had arrived at the scene, he was too far gone for them to do anything to save him. Mr. Lazarchik left behind a shocked grieving widow and seven orphans; Hugo left behind a shocked grieving widow and six orphans, the oldest of whom was fourteen, and the youngest of whom, my great-great-uncle George, was just a baby, only four months old.
In 1910 he and his co-worker John Lazarchik were killed when a train struck their delivery truck while they were out delivering beer to their Russian customers for the upcoming Orthodox Christmas. A number of other people's lives had already been claimed at this particular railroad crossing; on this night the accident was caused due to the rain. Both men were flung from the wagon upon impact; Mr. Lazarchik was killed instantly, but Hugo wasn't flung as far and thus lived for about 35 minutes following the accident. The impact of the train was so jolting that his socks and tightly-laced boots were torn off of his feet. This tragedy made the front-page news in the local papers and shocked and saddened the whole community. The article made note of the shocking fact that the people who came to the scene only sent a boy for a doctor and then began moving the thirty-plus beer kegs (all, amazingly, unbroken) to a safer location, leaving my still-breathing great-great-grandpap partly submerged in a ditch of water and with nearly every bone in his body broken. By the time several physicians had arrived at the scene, he was too far gone for them to do anything to save him. Mr. Lazarchik left behind a shocked grieving widow and seven orphans; Hugo left behind a shocked grieving widow and six orphans, the oldest of whom was fourteen, and the youngest of whom, my great-great-uncle George, was just a baby, only four months old.
