History Through Houses

                                                                 HISTORY THROUGH HOUSES

In July of 1982, my mother and I made a nostalgic trip back to her hometown and birthplace, Fennimore, Wisconsin.  Fennimore held special memories for me also, as I spent a couple years of my very early childhood there and later spent enjoyable summers on my grandparent's farm.   

                                                              My Mother's Birthplace

On January 8, 1906, a brown eyed dark haired baby was born to Will and Mary Riddiough on a farm just south of Fennimore.  She was to be the oldest of their four daughters.  In the picture above, the buildings can barely be seen from the road. 

 Mother's Home in 1925

Mother and Father were married in 1926 at her parents home (above).  This is where she lived in 1925 and was most likely the site of her wedding, February 16 ,1926.

                                                      

                                                             The Tuckwood House

The Tuckwood house sits on a corner in Fennimore.  This is the house that my mother and father moved to when Fern and I were small (from 1933-1935).   Fern was 3-5 years old and I was 1-3 years old).   I remember Fern and I having chicken pox when living in this house.  Fern loves to tell the story about when mom and dad were having a prayer session in the small living room with my father's sister and her husband, Hazel and Roy Wauchope.  The Wauchopes were very religious and our mother felt sure they did not approve of bad or off-color language.  The door to the upstairs where Fern and I were playing on the steps (as children sometimes do) opened into the living room.  Somehow, Fern slipped and came tumbling down the steps and hit the door at the bottom of the steps.  The door flew open with the impact and she landed into the room.  My sister immediately picked herself and uttered a resounding "OH SHIT!  Everyone stared in surprise then laughed.  Fern expected to receive a spanking for her faux pas, but it never came much to her relief.  

                                                           

Retirement Home of Carl and Marie Fischer

Mother's grandparents, Carl and Marie Fischer, lived in a house not too far from the Tuckwood house after their retirement from farming.   I remember it being painted brown.  It was a sad occasion when mother's aunt Edith suffered a stroke and died.  I do remember a visit to the house during that time, but nothing else ... have no recollections of Carl and Marie.  Fern and I were each a given juice size glass to remember her by.  I still have mine.  

                                                                            

Happy Summers on the Farm

My grandfather, Will Riddiough, moved from farm to farm during his lifetime.  Pictured above is the last one on which they lived for many years.  It hold so many memories of my summers on the farm.   My job was to go to the mailbox and get the mail each day.   Playing with all the kittens and the Collie cow dog, Scotty, kept me more than occupied.  My job, along with Scotty, was to go and bring the cows in for evening milking.  Actually, the well trained cow dog did all the rounding up and driving to the barnyard.  I just followed along.  I was eight years old when my grandfather saddled up Tops, hoisted me aboard and sent me happily plodding along in the pasture warbling my favorite cowboy songs.  I was in cowgirl heaven.  Tops was a plow horse, though grandfather referred to her as his "western horse".  Looking back she was most likely a large quarter horse.  I never saw him ride, but he did have all the gear necessary.  I spent hours currying Tops when she was stabled in the barn.

                                                            

My love affair with horses started at an early age.

The Orchard Farm  1926

This is the first farm that my mother and father moved onto after their marriage on February 16, 1926.  It was called The Orchard Farm.  Times were hard, and I don't think my father enjoyed farming that much.  They, too, moved from farm to farm.  After the 1929 crash, they left farming and moved to Illinois where they both worked at and orphanage call "The Youman City of Childhood".   Mother worked in the kitchen and dad worked in the diary milking cows as I recall. 

Homeless for a while .....  Fern with friend.  Fern and I slept in the trailer.
Mom and Dad slept in the tent.  

 

 Cabin at Krause Kabin Kourt

My parents moved to La Crosse in 1937 where they lived in a tent and trailer for a few months then moved into a one room cabin with cement floors then in a two room house in Green Acres where Fern and I spent our early childhood.  In 1940, they bought the four room house on Barlow Street where they would live until my father's death in 1981.    Notice the Model A Ford ... that was my Father's.

Green Acres ... Fern and I standing in the doorway.
Our job was to help de-bud all the peony bushes and pick
strawberries and raspberries ... a condition put forth
by the landlord, Frank Moore.

Thanks to Scott, I have a picture of the house on Barlow Street.   Railings had been added to the front stoop, but the house looks pretty much the same as when Fern and I lived there.  

 

Olden Days!

"What was it like in the olden days, mother?  You know, like when your were a little girl," asked our eleven year old Miss Curiosity Shop.  "Did they drive cars?  Did they have super markets?"

"Now must a minute, young lady," I replied, "I am not THAT old!  Yes, there were cars in those days, not as sleek and shiny as today's, but there were still cars.  And as for super markets, yes, there were a few, but they weren't as super as the ones of today."

So I proceed to give my young daughter, Nancy Lisa, a history lesson ... and after thinking about it for a bit, decided that my childhood experiences were indeed different from hers, just as my mother's childhood experiences were foreign to me.  Time to slip back into the "olden days".  

Running to the little neighborhood store to get a loaf of bread or quart of milk (in glass bottles) was my job in the "olden days". 

  

"Neighborhood grocery stores," I explained, "were often combined with a gasoline station and were the favorite shopping spot for families in those days, because that meant that fuel for the body and car could be taken care of all at one time.  Little mom and pop neighborhood grocery stores were common.  Since families could afford only one car, including ours, that meant your grandmother Strahl and I would have to walk to the nearest store during the day and purchase only what we could carry in our arms or tote in a wagon.  Did I mention that when your grandmother and grandfather moved to La Crosse in 1937, they both worked at the Knudson Texaco station, grandpa pumping gas and doing repairs and grandma doling out groceries and manning the cash register.  Grandpa sometimes filled in on those jobs also, though grandma never pumped gas ... that was the men's job" 

"There weren't any food laden aisles to wander down in those grocery stores," I continued, "nor shopping carts to nudge along.  Everything was neatly stocked on shelves behind a counter.  The grocery man waited on each and every customer, picking out the various cans of food as they were read from the list.  There wasn't any label reading in those days nor very many brands from which to choose.  You didn't quibble over price, either."

"Bakery items like doughnuts and long johns, my passion as a child, were stored in tall, glass cases with pull out trays.  Meat was kept in meat cases much like the ones that you see in butcher shops today, but the back room where the meat was cut up was often small and unsanitary.  One often wondered whether the man who pumped the gas washed his hands before weighing up the meat."

"If the store could afford one, a hand operated adding machine totaled up the purchases before they were rung up on a cash register, a stately, brass bell ringing object which would fall into the antique relic classification today.   If there were no adding machines, purchases were itemized on a sales slip and added up in the head and rechecked by the customer before payment made.  It was common to just charge it"

Above Photo is of my mother and father taken by the main door to the grocery area.  To the right were the gasoline pumps.  Notice the grocery part was IGA.  The gasoline was Texaco.  My father was 37 years old and mother was 32.  

Cooking was simple, out of a can, fresh, or home canned.  No frozen or packaged foods or convenience foods like cake and cookie mixes.  Pork and beans were the closest to a meal-in-a-can that could come to a homemaker's rescue in an emergency.  Potatoes were a mainstay of each meal with pasta dishes coming second.  No instant mashed potatoes, just wash, peel, and boil. 

If a homemaker was inclined, home baked cakes, cookies and pies along with sliced banana drowned in Jello were the desserts of choice.   No store bought cakes or pies in those days though there were packaged cookies.  My mother cooked over a kerosine stove, and I held a slice of bread skewered on a fork over the burner for toast.  It wasn't until I was about twelve years old, that mother got an electric stove and refrigerator.  Until then, foods needing to be kept cool were stored in an ice box.  Did we mind?  No, that is just the way it was. 

Nancy Lisa is about 8 years old in this photo.  She took ballet lessons.  Now her girls can ask her what it was like in her "olden days!"

 Johann Friedrich Carl and Hanna Marie Breese Fischer

(my great-grand parents ... my mother's grandparents)

It probably was with great trepidation that 27 year old Johann Friedrich Carl and  23 year old Hanna Marie Breese Fischer made their final decision to leave the security of the baron's estate and their families to embark for the new world.  Military and religious pressures had built up immensely in Germany.  Life was difficult for the Fischers and the work hard, for they were simple peasants who labored in the fields.  They lived in the village of Pommern which is on the northern border of what was Russian rule after the war I and II.  Every day a wagon from the baron's estate came to the village and got them. The thirteen children of Johann's' father (Johann F. Fischer-born 1831-married to Augusta Zander-born 1839) worked on this estate. (Augusta and Johann were married in 1845.)    

Times in Germany in the 1800' were uneasy. The Kaiser was forcing the men to go into military training which was hard and very cruel.  Though there had been German Jews from the 4th century, starting in the 1870s, anti-Semites viewed Jews as part of a Semitic race that could never be properly assimilated into German society.  Life was difficult for anyone Jewish.  Johann was believed to be a German Jew, but my mother related that when she asked about it one time, she was hushed and told "we don't talk about that".     

Carl and Hanna had eight children of whom my grandmother, Marie, was the second oldest.

Shown here are her parents and two younger brothers.

Carl's sister who had married into a wealthy family, made the decision easier as she gave them enough money for their passage to the United States.  So, with their small daughter, Anna, and Hanna pregnant with their second child, they left their homeland and families and sailed for America.  After arriving in New York in September of 1883, they took a train to Fennimore, Wisconsin where they stayed briefly with Hanna's brother, John Breese, and his family.  Fennimore would be their home.  Now, they would be known as Carl and Maria.  Shortly after arriving, Carl got a job as a section hand on the Narrow Gage railroad, and they moved into their own home near John Breese.  Language was a barrier as they spoke only German.  My grandmother, Maria Johanna Frederica Fischer, was born three months later, on December 5,1883.  

I think this is the "family farm" mentioned.  Pictured are sons, Fritz, Frank, Emil, and Charley

For ten years, Carl worked in a grain warehouse.  He did learn English.  And they did prosper.  My grandmother, Maria, was ten years old when Carl and Hanna purchased "Sunny Side" farm.  They lived there until 1902 when he sold Sunny Side and purchased a farm southwest of Fennimore.  This farm would remain in the family until the summer of 1963.  Carl and Hanna had eight children: Anna Fischer Riddiough, Maria Johanna Frederica Fischer Riddiough, Charles Fischer (he had a twin who died), Emma Fischer Masso, Edith Fischer (Edith died at the age of 51 of a stroke and was buried in Fennimore), Frank Fischer, Emil Fischer and Franz (Fritz) Fischer.  

My Grandmother, Mary, is on the right.    

First row: Charles-1889-1972, Anna-1881-1966, Carl 1856-1945, Maria 1860-1946, Mary 1883-1969, back row: Frank 1893-1973, Emma 1886-1973, Emil 1896-1986, Edith 1890-1942, J Frederick 1899-1949

Great-grandfather Carl (also referred to as Charles) Fischer was born March 14, 1856, at Popenhagen, Richenburg, Germany.  Great-grandmother Marie (Hanna) Breese was Born August 28, 1860, at Neumuehl (Penmuehl), Franzlourg (by Franzburg), Germany.  They were married May 14, 1880, in Franzburg, Germany.  They lived two years in Neumuehl before immigrating to America.  Carl and Hanna celebrated their Golden Wedding anniversary May 1930 with all of their children present with the exception of Fred.  Hanna was sixty-nine and Carl was seventy-four.  Great-grandfather Carl died January 4, 1945.   He was 88 years of age.  Great-grandmother Hanna died January 26, 1946, at the age of 84.  They both are buried in the Prairie Cemetery, Fennimore, Wisconsin

This picture was taken outside of their home in Fennimore.  It was painted brown.  Carl is 71 and Hannah is 67.  They celebrated their 50 years of marriage three years later in 1930.

My Mother wrote her memories of her grandparents: 

"The Fischers, my mother's people, were quiet German folk, very reserved, quiet, and genteel folk.  I, Gladys, liked to go and stay with them.  They were so kind and special.  Grandma Fischer or Grandpa Fischer would get on edge at each other, but in a quiet way.  But, oh my, how the German would fly.  I spent many memory filled and happy hours as their oldest granddaughter visiter.   Grandpa Fischer was to have been of German-Jew descent, but it was always hushed up because of World War I and other problems.

                   *Johann F. Fischer (1831) and Augusta Zander Fischer (1839)

                    **Carl Breese (1835 Pommern, Germany)-Hannah Maria Wetterman         (8/28/1860,Neumuhl, Franzburg, Germany)

*Carl and **Hannah Breese Fischer > Marie Fischer Riddiough > Gladys Riddiough Strahl >>> Fern  Strahl Brye Ryan Tomazewski, Nancy Strahl Donnell Guenther, and Everette Strahl, Jr. >>>> Brent Brye, Randi Brye Hoffman, Lewis Brye, William Brye, Randolph Donnell, Samuel Donnell, Scott Donnell, Nancy Donnell Capo, Aaron Strahl, Farah Strahl Krueger and Shelby Strahl Hutchinson 

  

Grandpa/Great-grandpa Donnell

Samuel Russell Donnell, July 15, 1871-- October 1954

         Grandson Randolph Russell Donnell called him Bebop, for as a year old toddler, he wasn't able to say  those magic words, grandpa.  Unfortunately, his brothers, Sammy and Scott, and sister, Nancy Lisa, would never know their grandfather.  In his youth and middle age, he was a very handsome man, something, I am sure, that attracted his two future wives, Mildred Johnston and Irma Pust.  Randy would entertain his grandfather for hours while in his playpen that had been pushed next to Bebop's chair.  Samuel loved to watch him play and called him the "little geezer".    

        Samuel Russell Donnell was born July 15, 1871 at Spring Hill, Indiana.  He had three brothers and two sisters.  Samuel attended school in Hinksville, Ohio.  He became an assistant manager for the Hines Lumber Company in Forest Park, Illinois and had an interest in a taxi cab company.  His first wife was Mildred Johnston whom he married on November 16, 1918.  Tragedy struck the young newlyweds, for one year later in the year 1919, Mildred became a victim of the flu epidemic that swept the nation at that time in history.  When Samuel passed away in 1954, his coffin was transported by train to Greensburg, Indiana so that he could be buried along side her in the Greensburg Cemetery.  

Irma Amelia Pust caught his eye one day when she and her girlfriend were dining in a restaurant.  Irma often related that "he thought she was a movie star."    She was thirty years old and he was fifty-one when they married in Crown Point, Indiana in 1922.  Five years later, in 1927, they had one son, Samuel Randolph Donnell born when Irma was thirty-five and Samuel fifty-six.

          Sometime during their early marriage, Samuel and Irma  moved to Oak Park, Illinois and opened a cigar and card shop in Oak Park.  Irma managed the card section while Samuel managed the cigar and tobacco department.  They lost their business in the crash of 1929.  Irma related that foolishly, they kept pumping money into the shop in an effort to keep it going, but to no avail ... they lost everything.  In 1933, dead broke, Samuel, Irma and six year old Sammy moved to La Crosse, Wisconsin where they resided in the other half of a house owned by Irma's aunt (Louise Hoffman), affectionately referred to as Aunt Lou.  Samuel and Irma would live in that house on 922 State Street until their deaths; Irma inheriting the house when Aunt Lou passed away years later.  

After moving to La Crosse, Samuel found a job with the Linker Hotel on Main Street as an elevator operator.  In those days, all elevators required a person to push the buttons or maneuver the control lever ... no automatic and self service ones like today.   Unfortunately during his tenure as the Linker Hotel elevator operator, there was an accident involving the elevator, and Samuel suffered some debilitating injuries. (what kind of injuries is not know by this writer)   When I came to know him, he was already an old man suffering from Parkinson disease.  This would have been about 1949-50.  He spent most of his time sitting in a chair facing a huge picture type window and watching the traffic and activity on State Street.  He walked with a shuffle and his hands shook which is so characteristic of Parkinson disease.  At the age of 83, he passed away from complications of uremic poisoning known today as kidney failure.      

Samuel Russell was 79 when this photo was taken.  Irma is in her mid 50's and Samuel Randolph in his early 20's.  This is the Samuel I first knew when I dated his son in 1949.

Samuel's boyhood home in Kingston, Indiana.  Bebop told of how he and his brothers would take the family buggy and wash it in the nearby creek.  The boys room was the small shed to the right in the photo.  The house was built of sturdy red brick and was still in use in 1954 when Irma, Samuel Randolph, and I visited it.  The house has been in the family for years and years.

Samuel's parents were Luther Lewis Donnell and Cornelia Fitz Randolph Donnell.  They are buried in the Kingston Cemetery.  Sons Albert and Edward are also buried in the family plot.

Our family has five Samuel R Donnells starting with Samuel Russell, Samuel Randolph, Samuel Ray, Samuel Ryan and Samuel Rylan.  It is a proud name with a proud heritage.  

Young Everette Ray Strahl circa 1925-26

A RIDING THE RAILS ADVENTURE

Seventeen year old Everette Ray Strahl was not about to argue. He was looking down the barrel of gun. When he set out on his own in search of adventure, riding the rails ... a cheap form of transportation and generally safe ... he hadn't counted on this. Dutifully, young Everette slowly reached into his pocket and extracted a small wad of bills ... a very small wad ... and handed them over to the robber. When the robber turned and started to walk away with his loot, young Everette called out to him to "wait a minute". When the robber turned around to see what his victim wanted, it was his turn to look down the barrel of a gun. You see, the robber didn't bother to pat down the young man or even ask if he had a gun ... much to his misfortune ... for young Everette not only relieved him of his gun, but also of all the cash the robber now had. Looking at the bundle of bills, young Everette wondered how many other rail riders fell victim to this man. Now, it just so happened that a freight train was chugging slowing down the track toward them. Young Everette, still pointing the gun, motioned toward the freight and very politely suggested that the robber hop aboard the open box car as it passed and "just keep on going". The robber complied, after all, a gun pointing at you speaks more forcibly than words. The robber turned to look back at the young man standing along the track still pointing the gun. The young man gave him a friendly wave then pocketed both guns and the money as the freight chugged away down the track. He watched until the train was but a small worm in the distance and decided that he would definitely catch a freight going the opposite way.

Everette Strahl was my father, your grandfather and great-grandfather, and yes, he did leave his father's farm and rode the rails when he was seventeen (between 1917-18). His was the era of hobos who spent their lives going from one to place to another hitching a ride on a freight car and knocking on doors asking to work for food. He couldn't have rode the rails for long as when he was 17-18, he joined the army and served probably in the Aviation Section, U.S. Signal Corps, the military aviation service of the United States army from 1914 to 1918, and a direct ancestor of the United States Air Force, where he learned to fly a plane. However, World War I ended and so did his dreams of becoming a pilot. He never saw combat.

Everette Ray Strahl born August 27, 1901, died January 16,1983

Riding the rails was a common event after the Civil war, but it did not reach its peak until after the crash of 1929 and the resulting depression.

The Cookie Grandma

She was known to her grandchildren as the Cookie Grandma. Her grandchildren loved her and she them. When the grandchildren would visit her, she would whip out the mixing bowls, various ingredients and encourage their little hands to cream, mix and stir until the dough was formed. Then she would help them drop the cookies onto a baking pan and pop them into the oven. (Today, Scott and Nancy Lisa are the best cookies makers). Childhood memories are made of this, and the cookies treats were an added bonus.

She enjoyed telling stories about her grandchildren and even her great-grandchildren. (that last term got her a good laugh), and she enjoyed telling stories about her adventures traveling with Tom (grandpa Guenther) and me (grandma Guenther). Sometimes, I even wondered if I had been there (like the time we were at Yellow Stone Park, but that is for another time). She loved to tell about taking her granddaughter-in-law, Geralyn, and little five year old Allison to lunch one day. When they were finished eating and the waitress (oops, I guess they are called servers today) laid the check on the table, Allison grabbed it as quick as a flash along with the $20 bill Grandma had put on top of the check and headed as fast as her little legs could carry her to the cash register. Grandma was so astounded, all she could do was sit there with her mouth hanging open. Pretty soon, little Allison returned. "And she had the correct change!" Grandma exclaimed.

Then there was great-granddaughter, Kari Hoffman. Again, a five year old. When her mother introduced her to her great-grandmother, she looked up into Grandma's face and asked, "what's so great about her?" And then there is my own son, Gregg, who at about five or six was drawing a picture of his Grandmother (who was visiting us at the time). When he finished he proudly showed it to her, then after scrutinizing his picture again proclaimed, "I forgot the wrinkles!" Out of the mouths of babes.

And who was this amazing women, my role model, the woman who taught me how to be a good grandmother and to have a sense of humor, especially when it comes to children? My mother, Gladys Marie Riddiough Strahl. Mothers are very important in the lives of their children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. (If fathers feel left out, they will have to create their own blog!)

Now to the important stuff (that's a lol). Today was weigh in day. In the five weeks since I started the Nutrisytem plan, ten ... I repeat ... ten pounds are history. Both Grandpa and I like the food and the eating schedule. Lots of fresh fruits and veggies ... no added salt, no added butter. But ... lots of chocolate ... yes, I said chocolate ... my passion, but it is all balanced and adds up to less than 1300 calories per day, but never hungary. We are having swedish meatballs and pasta for supper tonight. "I really enjoy being on this diet," says Grandpa.

Well, all for now ... more stories to come and I plan to post pictures also.