The Forgotten Hero: Lt. Hugh McKee and the Shinmiyangyo Expedition of 1871

As I researched our family tree over the past several years, uncovered were dozens of brave ancestors who played vital roles in numerous conflicts. In particular, the McKee family includes individuals who fought not only in battles across Scotland and England but also carried their courage and loyalty to the New World. They participated in the American Revolution, the War of 1812, the Texas Revolution, the Mexican-American War, the Civil War, and through World Wars I and II, the Korean War, and Vietnam War. They unhesitatingly joined causes they believed were just, with many securing places in history through heroic acts.

Hugh Wilson McKee

One such ancestor is my second cousin three times removed (my great-grandfather’s first cousin), Lt. Hugh Wilson McKee. The McKee name appears frequently during the Texas Revolution, the Civil War, and the Mexican-American War, but I never expected to find it linked to a conflict half a world away. This battle occurred near the Incheon beaches, which were famously stormed by General Douglas MacArthur almost 80 years later during the Korean War. On June 11, 1871, Lt. McKee fought in the Shinmiyangyo Expedition, a conflict you won't typically find in American history books. As Winston Churchill once said, "History is written by the victors." The battle itself was inconclusive, and later, it was highlighted as an example of 19th-century Western imperialism and American arrogance.  According to Dr. Thomas Duvernay, history professor at Yeungnam University in Gyeongsan, Korea, it was probably the first cultural misunderstanding between the United States and the Korean governments, and also the most crucial to early relations.[1]

Hugh Wilson McKee was the fourth and youngest child of Colonel William Robertson and Jane (Wilson) McKee, born in Lexington, Kentucky. Colonel William McKee, a West Point graduate, fought in the War of 1812. When the U.S.-Mexico War broke out, he was appointed Colonel of Companies F and G in the 2nd Regiment of Kentucky Volunteers and sent to Angostura, Mexico, to fight under General Zachary Taylor, who would later become the 12th President of the United States. On the second day of the Battle of Buena Vista, Col. McKee defended his position alongside Capt. Braxton Bragg and Col. John J. Hardin against General Santa Anna (the general responsible for the massacre at the Alamo in 1836). Severely wounded, McKee continued to fight until he was overwhelmed and bayoneted by Mexican soldiers. At the time, his youngest son, Hugh, was just two years old.

It remains uncertain where Hugh lived in the years following his father’s death. He is not listed on the 1850 Federal Census with his mother, two older brothers, and sister. However, the 1860 Federal Census shows him residing with his mother, his brother George Wilson, and his sister Margaret. By then, his eldest brother, John, had married, and his brother George was attending the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.

During his childhood, Hugh was undoubtedly influenced by the military stories of his father, his grandfather, Col. Samuel McKee, a War of 1812 veteran and U.S. Congressman, and his great-grandfather, Col. William Alexander McKee. The latter, who immigrated to America from Ireland, served in both the Revolutionary War and the French and Indian War, was a member of Virginia’s Colonial and State Legislature, and served as the sheriff of Rockbridge County, Virginia.

The US Naval Academy Graduate Association described Hugh as follows:

“McKee displayed, early in his professional life, qualities of personal bearing and character that made him a favorite among his peers and pointed to future success and distinction. He was above average height, with a straight, compact build, and a noble, pleasing countenance. He executed his duties with superior intelligence, sound judgment, and remarkable precision, showing self-possession and decisiveness. McKee possessed a rare quality of leadership that inspired confidence in his men. Yet, he was even more beloved as a friend and comrade. No one in the Navy garnered more affection from those with whom he served. His professional reputation commanded respect, while his generous and approachable spirit left an impression on all who came into contact with him.”[2]

Military Education and Career

Hugh’s military career began at the age of 16, when he enlisted as a private with the Lexington Chasseurs, an infantry company formed in May 1860 as part of the Kentucky State Guard. Just a year later, he gained admission to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, thanks to the recommendation of the Hon. George Dunlap, a U.S. Representative from Kentucky’s 6th District. Over the next five years, Hugh steadily advanced in rank, graduating in 1866 with high honors as a Midshipman 1st Class.

His first duty station was aboard the USS Rhode Island in the Practice Squadron, where the Navy trained officers and conducted drills to ensure the fleet’s combat readiness. In 1867, he was assigned to the steam frigate USS Franklin and joined Adm. David Glasgow Farragut on his famous European Cruise. The mission aimed to strengthen peaceful relations between the United States and various European nations following the Civil War. During this time, Hugh was promoted three more times, eventually reaching the rank of lieutenant when he was assigned to the USS Colorado.

The Colorado would mark his final assignment.

Setting the Stage for Shinmiyangyo

Under the Joseon Dynasty, Korea had long been subjected to invasions, particularly from China and Japan. These external threats, combined with Confucian ideals emphasizing stability, order, and the preservation of traditional culture, led to a deep reluctance to engage with the outside world. Korea’s leadership, often dominated by powerful clans, became increasingly wary of external influences that could destabilize the country. Having witnessed the effects of Western imperialism during the Opium Wars and the spread of Christianity, Korea imposed strict trade restrictions, permitting only limited exchanges with China and Japan under highly controlled conditions. This policy earned Korea the nickname "The Hermit Kingdom."[3]

On August 16, 1866, the American schooner General Sherman, a merchant vessel, entered the mouth of the Taedong River, which flows inland toward Pyongyang. The crew dropped anchor, hoping to trade goods aboard the ship for Korean leopard skins, rice, paper, gold, and ginseng. An emissary was sent to meet the ship’s captain and inform him that the kingdom did not engage in trade with foreigners but would offer provisions to help them on their way to other regions. After the emissary left, the captain hoisted anchor and steamed up the Taedong River. When they eventually stopped on their way to Pyongyang, the local Governor sent provisions to the ship, along with this message: “You have reached the walls of our city. You insist on trading with us, which is forbidden. Your actions have created a grave situation. I must inform my King and then decide what to do with you.”[4]

Ten days later, the emissary was invited back aboard the General Sherman and kidnapped. Upon learning of the situation, the king’s regent, Daewongun, sent back this command: “Tell them to leave at once. If they do not obey, kill them.” By this time, leaving wasn’t an option. The General Sherman had only been able to advance upriver due to an exceptionally high tide, and with the tide returned to normal, the ship was now trapped.[5]

On September 4, the Koreans launched an attack, eventually setting fire to the General Sherman. The ensuing inferno claimed many of the crew members. Those who jumped overboard were captured and beaten to death by the Koreans. The only survivor was the emissary who had been kidnapped by the crew. All that remained of the ship's destruction were two large cannons displayed at the armory in Pyongyang. No word was sent to the United States, and the General Sherman effectively disappeared. In response, the U.S. sent the USS Shenandoah to investigate the ship’s fate, but communication with the Korean capital was denied.

Two months after the General Sherman's disappearance, a French fleet of seven warships arrived to establish a blockade of the Han River. The French sought retribution for the execution of nine Catholic missionaries and around 10,000 Korean converts to Catholicism by the Korean government. They aimed to retaliate for the executions and assert their influence in Korea. However, the Koreans successfully repelled the invaders, forcing the French troops to withdraw. Their actions only strengthened Korea's isolationist stance.

In May 1868, German merchant Ernst Oppert narrowly escaped Korea after attempting to blackmail the Korean Regent into opening trade with the West. His plan involved digging up the Regent's father's remains and holding them hostage until the Regent signed a trade agreement. Soldiers were dispatched to enter the tomb, excavate the crypt, and bring the sovereign’s bones back to the ship. However, the plan failed. While the soldiers desecrated the tomb, they couldn’t lift the heavy stone covering the crypt and had to abandon their mission. After such a bold and outrageous attempt, it’s no surprise that the Korean monarchy doubled down on their resolve to keep Westerners at bay.

The Shinmiyangyo (The Incident)

Five years after the disappearance of the General Sherman, the U.S. State Department instructed Frederick Low, the American foreign minister in China, to lead a punitive expedition to Korea. The mission was twofold: to uncover the fate of the General Sherman and to establish a trade treaty with the Hermit Kingdom. An assembly of five warships—USS Colorado, Alaska, Benicia, Palos, and Monocacy—along with 650 U.S. Marines and Navy bluejackets, set sail for the Kanghwa Strait, located between Kanghwa Island and the Korean mainland, just south of the Han River. It was hoped that the Koreans could be intimidated into negotiating a treaty, similar to how the Japanese had been dealt with nearly 20 years earlier. Though Minister Low had little optimism about their success, he set out to fulfill his government's orders.

The USS Colorado - U.S. Navy Photo

In a tense but courteous first meeting near Eugenie Island aboard the Colorado, three Korean diplomats were welcomed and informed by Low that their mission was "non-aggressive." The Americans planned to take soundings along the western waters and survey the shores, and they would begin in 24 hours so that local civilians could be notified. The diplomats did not object, which the Americans interpreted as tacit approval for their plan. With this assumption, the USS Alaska, Benicia, and Colorado—accompanied by the Palos and Monocacy in a survey role—entered the Kanghwa Strait. As they began their survey, they observed several Korean fortifications along the coast of Kanghwa Island. Without warning, the ships came under fire from the fortresses, including the large Kwangsungbo Fortress, which the Americans referred to as "The Citadel." In response, the Palos and Monocacy steamed up the strait, rounding the bend to engage the Kwangsungbo Fortress with their heavy guns, forcing the Koreans to retreat from the walls. Afterward, the Americans withdrew to the harbor, waiting for an explanation and an apology from the Korean monarchy.

Officers of the USS Colorado - Lt. Hugh Wilson McKee is seated 4th from the left.
After ten days with no communication from the Korean officials, the Palos and Monocacy again entered the Kanghwa Strait, this time accompanied by U.S. Marines (including Lt. McKee) and Navy bluejackets. No apology had been received, and Admiral Rodgers "assembled the force to teach them a lesson."[6] The ships were once again fired upon by Choji Fortress. After a "furious pounding" from the Monocacy's guns, the Koreans retreated, and an amphibious assault began.

The tide was out, and the ground forces faced a 200-yard stretch of soggy mudflats, where they sank to their knees with each step. The mud clung to their boots, socks, and even their pants, making progress slow and difficult. Once they crossed the flats, they reached the fortress, only to find it abandoned and in ruins, the result of the Monocacy's heavy bombardment. It was after 4 p.m. when the last of the Navy bluejackets arrived to finish the destruction of the fortress. They encamped nearby for the night.

Reveille sounded with a drumroll at 4 a.m., and the troops saw the Dukjin Fortress about a mile up the strait. That would be their next target. As the soldiers marched toward the fortress, the Monocacy launched heavy fire on its earthen walls, reducing them to rubble. By the time the Marines entered, the fortress was deserted and in ruins. To the north stood the Kwangsungbo Fortress, a prominent horseshoe-shaped structure commanded by General Uh Je-yeon. He awaited the Americans with a force of 3,000 Korean soldiers, including the legendary Tiger Hunters—fighters sworn to the death against any power that dared invade Korea’s sovereignty.

As the American troops navigated the steep terrain and dense foliage, the Korean forces began to advance from the flank. Only a few hundred yards from their destination, atop a steep hill, they began to take fire from the Koreans above. The roar of the Monocacy’s guns echoed in the distance as they rained down on the enemy fortress. It was nearly 11 a.m.

Lt. McKee and The Citadel

Lt. Hugh McKee (center with white hat) at the Choji Fortress hours before the attack on the Kwangsungbo Fortress.  Photo by Felice Beato.
As 27-year-old Lt. Hugh Wilson McKee wiped the sweat from his eyes, he focused intently across the ravine at the fortress they were preparing to assault. It would be his honor to lead the charge as the commander of D Company—fitting for the young U.S. Naval Academy graduate and son of an American soldier. His father, Colonel McKee, had given his life for his country decades earlier. Hugh had often written, “There never was a McKee who went into battle that was not killed.”[7]

The enemy’s ramparts were lined with yellow flags. McKee turned to Lt. Bloomfield McIlvaine, who commanded Company E. “Mac,” he said bluntly, “we must capture one of those flags.” Explosive shells from the Monocacy slammed against the earthen walls. The Koreans began a chilling death chant that grew louder with each passing moment, echoing across the valley. It was a terrifying sound, amplified by the violent clash of bayonets, cutlasses, and spears. Then, the command to attack came. Lt. McKee led the way, scaling the walls first and driving the soldiers up the steep hillside with a fierce advance. The intensity of their charge caught the Koreans off guard. Inside the citadel, they didn’t have time to reload their old rifles, and instead, they began throwing rocks down from the walls.

Standing atop the wall, sword in one hand and pistol in the other, McKee fired two shots before dropping into the thick of the enemy forces. Almost instantly, the Koreans overwhelmed him. One soldier shot McKee in the groin, while another drove a spear into his side. One by one, McKee’s men fell as they tried to protect their commander.

The battle ended within half an hour. Realizing their imminent defeat, some Koreans leaped to their deaths or fell upon their own swords to honor their vow to fight until the end. General Je-yeon was found and killed by Private James Dougherty, an act that would later earn him a Medal of Honor. With the commander dead and his flag in American hands, the battle was over.

Lt. McIlvaine found McKee after the battle: “McKee looked up at me and said, in his calm, cool manner: ‘Mac, I am mortally wounded.’ With the help of two or three of his men, I managed to move him a little aside to assess his injuries. It was a gunshot wound to the stomach. At first, I couldn’t believe it was serious, and I told him so. He smiled and said he thought I was mistaken. Soon, the doctor came up from the rear and advised that he should be taken aboard the Monocacy. I received permission to accompany him, the fighting now over, but I was told to return immediately after.

All the way there, McKee spoke very little, lying perfectly still with his eyes closed. I feared he was enduring unimaginable pain, yet no pain, no matter how excruciating, would make him flinch. When we reached the Monocacy, I handed him over to the surgeons, then told him, ‘Now Mac, I must go back to my company.’ He held out his hand, smiled, and said, ‘Well, good-bye Mac, if I don’t see you again.’ Those were the last words he ever spoke to me, but at the time, I never imagined it would be the last time I would hear them. I simply pressed his hand and hurried away. I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was going to die. Later that evening, around 6 o’clock, a boat came in from the Monocacy. An officer approached to inform me that McKee had passed. His final words were: ‘Tell the dear beloved ones at home that my last prayer is for them.’”[8]

Two nights before his death, Lt. Hugh McKee had visited with Rev. John Rutherford Matthews, the fleet chaplain. During that meeting, he had given the chaplain a letter to send home to his mother and fiancée. McKee had indicated that he felt he would not survive the expedition. His remains would eventually be sent back to Kentucky, where he would be laid to rest in Lexington Cemetery.

Although nine sailors and six Marines were awarded the Medal of Honor—the first ever given for action in a foreign conflict—McKee did not qualify for the honor as an officer. The Navy did not award the Medal of Honor to naval officers until legislation was passed in 1917. Instead, McKee was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart and the Civil War Navy Medal for his actions during the Shinmiyangyo Expedition on June 11, 1871.

The Legacy of Hugh McKee and the Shinmiyangyo

The Shinmiyangyo Expedition is often regarded as inconclusive, with the American forces withdrawing after failing to secure an official apology or open trade relations with Korea. To the world, it stands as a stark example of the worst aspects of 19th-century imperialism. As a result, it is not a battle often highlighted in history books. Even in Minister Low’s own records, the attack on the Ganghwa fortress is portrayed as motivated by a desire to demonstrate American power over a perceived weaker nation, rather than as a reasonable step toward achieving the mission's political objectives. The American commanders felt entitled to "peacefully" enter Korean waters, armed with warships, and disregarded repeated diplomatic requests to respect Korean sovereignty.

“While the 1871 battle between the United States and Korea was not a major event in either country's history,” says professor Duvernay, “it was still an important event when it comes to looking at the history of relations between the two countries.”[9] The legacy of Lt. Hugh McKee stands as a testament to his bravery and selflessness and his sacrifice should never be forgotten. He thought only of his comrades and his duty, even in the face of egocentric leadership and poor strategic decisions. To his friend, Lt. McIlvaine, McKee was larger than life, and he could scarcely believe that McKee had died. To Captain McLaine Tilton of the USS Colorado, McKee was the epitome of nobility and heroism, “the beau of West Point.” According to Rear Admiral John Rodgers’ official report to George M. Robeson, the Secretary of the Navy, Washington D.C.: "Nothing could check our men; on they rushed. The heroic McKee was first to mount the parapet and the first to leap into a hand-to-hand conflict. There he fell, as his father fell in Mexico, at the head of his men, first inside the enemy's stormed works…”

Map of the Ganghwa Forts - USMC Historical Division Photograph Archives
In recognition of his bravery, the Kwangsungbo Fortress was renamed “Fort McKee” in his honor. Additionally, the U.S. Navy named three ships after him: the USS McKee (Torpedo Boat #18) (1898–1920), the USS McKee (Destroyer #87, later DD-87) (1918–1936), and the USS McKee (DD-575) (1943–1974).

Korea would eventually establish a treaty with the United States in 1882, negotiated by Commodore Robert W. Shufeldt, who approached Korea in a single ship, rather than with an overwhelming naval force.


[1] https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/opinion/2025/01/715_312626.html (Accessed 15 Feb 2025); Duvernay, Thomas, “"Sinmiyangyo: The 1871 conflict between the United States and Korea,” 2021, ISBN-13: ‎ 979-8591251963

[2] Trowbridge, John; “Today Marks the 150th Anniversary of the Death of Lieutenant Hugh Wilson McKee,” Kentucky National Guard Magazine; 11 June 2022, https://ky.ng.mil/News/Article/3057343/today-marks-the-150th-anniversary-of-the-death-of-lieutenant-hugh-wilson-mckee/.Accessed 10 Feb. 2025.

[3] https://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/General_Sherman_incident?form=MG0AV3

[4] Sterner, C. Douglas; Shinmiyangyo: The Other Korean War,” Legal Help for Veterans, PLLC, 2018. [https://www.ancestry.com/mediaui-viewer/collection/1030/tree/66331605/person/292668409436/media/d01782be-4397-4214-b8fa-65df50dc5a71?galleryindex=14&sort=-created]

[5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Sherman_incident?form=MG0AV3

[6] Sterner, C. Douglas; Shinmiyangyo: The Other Korean War,” Legal Help for Veterans, PLLC, 2018. [https://www.ancestry.com/mediaui-viewer/collection/1030/tree/66331605/person/292668409436/media/d01782be-4397-4214-b8fa-65df50dc5a71?galleryindex=14&sort=-created]

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid.

[9] https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/opinion/2025/01/715_312626.html (Accessed 15 Feb 2025); Duvernay, Thomas, “"Sinmiyangyo: The 1871 conflict between the United States and Korea,” 2021, ISBN-13: ‎ 979-8591251963

 

Ralph Lundberg: Pursuing Dreams in a Changing America

Ralph Charles Lundberg was born on February 3, 1895, in Wausau, Wisconsin, to Friedericke "Ricka" Emilie Kufahl and Frans "Frank" Gustaf Emil Adamsson/Lundberg. He was the eldest of their four children and had one younger brother, Dell Frank, and two younger sisters, Margaret Frances and Sylvia Emily. His father had immigrated from Sweden and worked in a Wisconsin sawmill, while his mother was a homemaker and raised the children.

Swedish settlers came to the Wisconsin area to work in the densely wooded northern and central parts of the state, with the industry dominated by Weyerhaeuser. However, by the turn of the century, logging in Wisconsin began to decline, forcing Ralph’s father to relocate his family to Virginia, Minnesota, where logging the plentiful white pine rivaled the iron ore mining business.

Ralph Charles Lundberg's ambition for a life beyond that of a laborer first gained recognition in the July 7, 1911 edition of The Virginia Enterprise, when he was just 16. The announcement read: “Names of Pupils Who Passed the State High School Board Examinations with the Number of Certificates Received.” Ralph's name topped the list with ten certificates—the highest of any student. He excelled in his Latin Science Course and performed in the Senior Class Play.

Roosevelt High School, Virginia, Minnesota

June 1912 marked Ralph's graduation from Roosevelt High School in Virginia, Minnesota, with the school's largest graduating class yet—27 seniors. Fourteen of them, including Ralph, took part in the closing exercises, delivering speeches on one of two subjects. Ralph's subject was “The Great Destroyer,” for which he presented his oration entitled “Abstinence and Efficiency” (eight years before Prohibition).

At 20, Ralph worked alongside his father at The Virginia & Rainy Lake Company sawmill as a tally man, counting and tagging lumber for shipment. But life took an unexpected turn on March 13, 1917, when his father, Frank, died of a ruptured appendix at 52. With his brother, Dell, incarcerated in the Wisconsin State Reformatory, Ralph had to take care of his mother and 9-year-old sister, Sylvia. (His sister Margaret had died of polio six years earlier.) And then, the following month, the U.S. entered World War I.

1st Army Artillery Park Truck Company C. Ralph is in the front row, sixth from right. 1918.

Ralph enlisted as a corporal with the 1st Army Artillery Park, Truck Company "C." During WWI, these truck companies were responsible for transporting ammunition from supply depots to the front-line artillery batteries, ensuring the guns kept firing. It was a perilous job, often moving forward with advancing troops and setting up temporary ammunition dumps near firing lines.

USS Chicago, Protected Cruiser

Ralph was deployed to Europe on June 29, 1918, departing from New York on the SS Chicago, a French mail boat, without a convoy. Constantly on the lookout for submarines, they arrived in Bordeaux, France, on July 11, 1918, where they met with Truck Companies A and B. From there, they were ordered to a village called Neuf-Chateau, which was 18 miles behind enemy lines.

 

In September, Ralph and his unit moved to Domgermain, the site of crucial ammunition dumps for the Toul Sector—a strategic region where the U.S. Army's Air Service was based. They set up headquarters in Ippicourt, but by October, orders sent them to the bustling town of Recicourt. From there, Ralph's company tirelessly hauled ammunition from two major dumps, ensuring the front lines were always supplied and ready for action.

USS Canonicus

World War I ended on November 11, 1918, and 18 days later, Ralph and his unit began their journey home. They embarked on the USS Canonicus at Pauillac, France, for the return trip to New York on April 19, 1919, finally arriving in New York harbor on May 2, 1919.

Helen Maxson Miller
Back at the Virginia & Rainy Lake Company lumber mill, Ralph met Helen Maxson Miller, who worked as a clerk in the office. Helen was born on September 5, 1896, in Ironwood, Michigan, to Jennie May Baker and Orrin Lexis Maxson. Orrin was a railroad brakeman, and Jennie was a homemaker. Helen was the youngest of the Maxson children, with six older brothers and sisters.

 When Helen was three years old, her mother, Jennie, died from complications of childbirth, and both her mother and the baby passed away. A year later, her father succumbed to typhoid pneumonia, leaving Helen and her siblings orphans. The children were sent to live with various aunts and uncles in the Maxson and Baker families. Helen and her sister, Gussie, went to live with their mother's sister, Katherine, and her husband, Frank Miller, in Bayfield, Wisconsin. Uncle Frank was a machine salesman, and Aunt Kate was a homemaker. Helen took the name "Miller," and in the 1910 U.S. Census, she is listed as "adopted."

When Helen met Ralph, a dashing Army veteran, at work, she was smitten, and they married on June 25, 1920, in Duluth, Minnesota. They settled in with Ralph’s mother and sister, Sylvia, while Ralph supported the family as a shipping clerk for The Virginia & Rainy Lake Company. But by the turn of the decade, the prime stands of white pine were vanishing, and so were jobs. As sawmills began to close, Ralph had to search for work elsewhere. By October 23, 1921, his search had taken him to Stillwater, Oklahoma, where the oil boom had nearly doubled the population in that decade. It was here that their son, Ralph Donald (Don), was born. Three years later, he was joined by a sister, Geraldine Katherine (Geri).

Ralph C. Lundberg, Date unk.
By 1926, the family had moved to Topeka, Kansas, where Ralph worked as a draftsman for a prominent architecture firm that designed many of the city's buildings. By 1928, he was working as an architectural engineer for the renowned architect David S. Castle, Sr., whom the Abilene Reporter-News described as “the West Texas skyline maker.” Ralph worked for Castle’s firm, designing buildings for Abilene and the surrounding area through 1931.

Ralph and Helen, both of whom had childhoods without one or both parents, finally seemed to have achieved a modicum of social and financial success. Ralph was employed by a well-known architectural firm and was a member of the local businessmen’s association and rotary club. Helen was a member of Eastern Star and attended various other women’s clubs. However, it was not to last. 

Abilene State Hospital, Abilene, Texas

Abilene State Hospital, Abilene, Texas

Blueprints for the Abilene State Hospital, Abilene, Texas

The stock market crash of 1929 and the ensuing Great Depression caused jobs to disappear and architectural contracts to dry up. Ralph’s health also suffered due to heart problems and, presumably, heavy alcohol use. With no opportunities left in Abilene, the family moved back to Minnesota, where Ralph found work as an engineer with the Works Progress Administration (WPA), part of FDR’s New Deal that employed millions of out-of-work men to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings.

Around this time, Ralph's doctor discovered he had pancreatic cancer. He had also been suffering from chronic pericarditis for several years. It was time to go home. Ralph and Helen moved back to Duluth, Minnesota.

In Duluth, their last daughter, Judith Helen, was born on January 26, 1938. Sadly, less than a year later, Ralph died, leaving Helen alone with their three children—just as her parents had left her as a young child 40 years earlier. He was buried with military honors at Greenwood Cemetery in Virginia, Minnesota. Helen remained in Minnesota through 1940, during which time Don finished his first year of college at 18.

In 1940, Helen moved to Oregon, where her sister, Gussie, lived. She settled in Buena Vista, Oregon, and worked at the Blue Lake Packers Company. Her daughter, Geri, married and lived about 20 miles north in Salem, Oregon. Her son, Don, married and settled in Albany, Oregon, about 10 miles to her south. On May 14, 1970, Helen Maxson Miller died after being hospitalized for an illness. She is buried at Restlawn Cemetery, west of Salem.