She Banged the Banker

A newspaper article too good not to share.  If only they wrote articles like this these days…

This article appears to be from the Peoria Star, Peoria, Illinois, and is in a scrapbook created by the Princeville Heritage Museum, Princeville, Illinois.

Susannah was the younger sister of my ancestress Rebecca DeBolt Lair, and Peter Auten was a local banker referred to by Rebecca in her will as “my good friend.”

SHE BANGED THE BANKER

Old Maid of 85 Years Vigorously Demands Her Rights
Sunday, May 24, 1903

Unwedded and unloved Miss Susannah Debolt has lived in this vale of  tears for 85 long years, but not for (---)  is this vale a tearful one. Far from it, good Gonzago.

This antique spinster is still a woman with a vigorous constitution and a strong mind, although it runs on an eccentric.  Fourscore and five years have not debilitated her spirit though they may have somewhat warped her mentality.  She lives alone in Princeville, chiefly in communion with the spirits of those whom she knew in her youth and mature womanhood, and so intimately has she become associated with them that she has very little respect for those who still inhabit this tenement of clay.

In the exercise of his judicial duties, it devolved upon Judge Slemmons to journey to Princeville yesterday and formally adjudge her incapable of caring for her estate, which is valued at about $4,000.  The judge found her another Meg Merrilies, her eyes, undimmed with the rime of years, still flashing in anger and her tongue fluent in invective.  She has a particular aversion to Banker Auten, the Princeville capitalist and by a peculiar circumstance he was appointed her conservator.  During the judicial proceedings she created a dramatic scene by rising suddenly in her seat and after overwhelming the luckless banker with a torrent of abuse she seized a yardstick and brought it down on his venerable head with a resounding whack.  It was a yardstick made in the good old days when articles of that sort were substantial and a ridge immediate arose on the banker's bald head to indicate the point of contact and to render its interior works incapable of striking a balance for the remainder of the day. 

Through the rest of the examination the old lady sat erect in her chair and with the yardstick by her side, as a queen might sit upon her throne grasping her imperial sceptre.  From that time on the judge and examiners were studiously respectful in their demeanor toward her and felt relieved when the ordeal was over.

The old lady has outlived all her near relatives and the proceedings of yesterday were taken in order to give her proper care and attention for the remnant of her days.

Miss Birks

I don’t think about junior high without thinking of Miss Birks.  The big old school building, pictured above, was referred to in postcards as the “new high school” but by the time I worked my way up the educational ladder, a newer “new high school” had been built, and the large, historic old building had been turned over to the junior high crowd.  Even back then, I loved the old architecture of the building, although the sheer size of it scared me half to death, as did Miss Birks.

I passed Miss Birks in the hallways many more times than I could count.  She always seemed to have a stern look about her, but then, after years of dealing with youngsters of that age and hormonal status, you’d better be tough.  At one particular point in time, I recall going through a bit of a crisis, and although I don’t recollect exactly what the problem was, it was serious enough that I considered talking to Miss Birks, who was by then the guidance counselor.  However, about that time I’d pass her in the hall again, and her aura of authoritarianism quickly changed my mind.

Over the years, when I’d see old photos of that beautiful school building, I’d think briefly of Miss Birks, but I hadn’t given her much in depth consideration until tonight, while browsing through an old 1926 Huron High School Tiger yearbook, and, much to my surprise, there she was in the graduating class!  Next to her photo, the question was asked, “Will her voice resound thru the ages as it has the halls of H. H. S.?”   What?  Miss Birks was noisy in the halls?  Really!?  I wish I’d known that 40 years ago!  And what a prophetic question!  Yes, as it turned out, her voice would resound through those halls for a very long time to come.

Miss Marie Birks, 1926

I was hoping to find a quick obituary online for Miss Birks to fill in the years.  Well, I didn’t find one.  I did, however, find that her name was mentioned in the local newspaper more times than I could count – and like the young girl who was involved in so many high school activities, as a grown woman her level of community involvement was high.  She had spent the bulk of her life living in the family home on Montana street, from before she was 10 months old until at least 1992, the last year for which I have a city directory.  Her mother passed away sometime between 1940 and 1953, which was the year her father died.  After that Miss Birks continued on in the home alone.

She was first-generation American born – her father came from England in 1883, and her mother a few years later, from Denmark.  Her father was most noted for his work as Beadle County Treasurer as well as a long-time real estate agent. 

She retired from the Huron Public School district with 39 years to her credit, according to the local newspaper.

Miss Birks was 96 years old when she passed away at the Huron Nursing Home in May of 2005.  As the children were closing another year of school, she closed the book of her life.

And yes, I eventually did get desperate enough to talk to her about my catastrophic situation, whatever it was.  She was one of the nicest, most empathetic and caring teachers I’ve known.  She helped me resolve my situation, encouraged me, and afterward remembered me with a smile every time we passed in the hall.  While Miss Birks is gone, as is the old school building, I won’t forget either one of them.

A few sources -

Social Security Death Index
1926 HHS Tiger Yearbook
1910, 1920, 1930 Federal Census
Numerous Huron City Directories
Numerous old Huron Daily Plainsman, Dakota Huronite, and other local newspaper articles

© Karen Seeman, 2011

Graphics courtesy of JOD

Driving Me Crazy

One fun by-product of taking a genealogy “road trip” is all of the interesting, out-of-the-ordinary things you see. Lately, it’s been cars.

We saw this beauty recently in Waverly, Iowa. Wow. My brother used to have an old green Chevy from the 1950s, but it sure didn’t look like this!

Is this a monster truck? Or a monster van? Also seen in Waverly.

Hadn’t seen an El Camino in years! I wonder how many young ‘uns today would have any idea what an El Camino is? We saw this fine example in Mason City, Iowa.

Definitely one of my favorites – a pristine General Lee. Wow. It’s hard not to love this car! Spotted in Rochester, Minnesota.

On our way home from our last road trip, we got behind this little gem in traffic in Rochester. It’s not every day you see a Lamborghini, especially around here! I wonder how that thing would do in the snow?

And last, but not least - 

My all-time favorite. It’s hard to beat this for a “noteworthy ride.” I believe I snapped this photo in Missouri, heading for Illinois.

White Bronze Beauties

While on a recent cemetery outing in Harlington Cemetery (Waverly, Iowa) I noticed several stones that were in remarkably good shape for their age.  Actually, they were in remarkably good shape for any age!  My husband, upon touching one of them, realized this was a metal “stone,” with a soft matte finish that mimicked the real thing.  In the short time we were in the cemetery, we found three examples, all stamped inconspicuously with “Western White Bronze Company” of Des Moines, Iowa.


A family historian could only hope to find a 120 year old stone in such wonderful, clearly readable condition.  The stone at right, belonging to members of the Jenkins and Calkins family, marks burials from 1887-1890.

According to an article written by Mark Culver, these “White Bronze” tombstones are not bronze at all, but zinc, which is resistant to rust.  The process of producing these “stones”, Culver says, was perfected in 1873.  The metal pieces were produced and then fused together with hot zinc.  The Monumental Bronze Company produced these stones until 1914, and during World War I, the government commandeered the plant for munitions.  The production of grave markers stopped in 1939.

The Western White Bronze Company of Des Moines was a subsidiary of the Monumental Bronze Company, where finishing work was done after casting in Bridgeport, Connecticut.  This plant closed in 1909.

Culver states that the prices of these grave markers ranged from under $10 to upwards of $5,000.
None of the stones we saw showed signs of damage, despite their age.  The price seems right.  The looks is crisp and clean.  They don’t rust.  They apparently don't age.  Vandals cannot break pieces from them.  So why did demand for the White Bronze stones cease?

The problem, says Culver, is that people never really warmed up to metal markers, and some cemeteries went so far as to ban them.  Many people probably did not believe the claims of the salesmen, which, decades down the road, have proven true after all.  Would they fare well in today’s market?  I’ll bet they would.

Interesting Stones in Harlington Cemetery

I took a recent jaunt through Harlington Cemetery in Waverly, Iowa, and while the cemetery was too large to cover all of it, I did note a few unique stones that I just had to capture.


To the left is the monument of Capt. Orrin F. Avery, Company I  34 Regiment 10 Volunteers.  I was struck by the unusual ornate carvings on the front of the stone.  Two crossed spears, draperies, and a five-pointed star are situated above what could be a shield.  The area on the shield, below Capt. Avery’s inscription, reads, “Our Darling Baby Boy, Born and died Sept. 30, 1869.”

On the side of the stone, engraved on another of the “shields”, it reads, “My Beloved Husband, Orrin E. Avery”.  He was born in 1831 and died on May 24, 1870 – just 8 months after this dear woman lost her baby boy.  This ornate stone still exudes the sadness and loss of 110 years past.




The Clarke monument, pictured below, featured two very large stone vaults. I am assuming the caskets were placed inside. I had never seen anything like this before.

Above, a simple variation on the “log” theme.  Below, more ornate…

The plant carvings were very ornate, and the way the logs are laid out is unlike anything I’ve seen.  Three individual stones are modeled after stumps.



This small house was sitting on a hill at the entrance to the cemetery.  There did not appear to be any burials nearby.  I’m not sure why it’s there, or if it’s supposed to represent anything in particular, but it was an unusual and unexpected sight.

And lastly, we ran across this stone near the gate as we were leaving the cemetery.  I wondered if it had been strategically placed by the owners, as a way of bringing a smile to the faces of visitors…

A Parochial Tradition

In the heart of tiny Polo, South Dakota sits a complex of Spanish mission style buildings known as St. Liborius Catholic church.  These buildings, erected in 1904, were central to the lives of the German Catholics of the area, offering everything except formal education for their children.

In 1923, that would change.  Casper Kluthe, along with his brother-in-law, George Lechtenberg, and William Froning, took the lead in establishing a parochial boarding school.  The parish hall building was converted into a three-room school, with the building between them used as a dormitory for the young scholars.

Casper Kluthe may have been influenced by his own parents’ deep involvement in the church at Olean, Nebraska, where they were charter members of Sacred Heart Catholic Church.  The parochial school there was erected in 1893, when Casper was five years old.

School opened at St. Liborius on September 13, 1923, with an enrollment of 68.  The school was administered by eighty-eight Benedictine sisters from Yankton, South Dakota, and after 1960, from Watertown, South Dakota. The school population peaked in the 1970s, and the school eventually became a public district in 1988.

St. Liborius in recent times

********************************

Sources:

Bring on the Pioneers!  History of Hand County, Scott Heidepriem.  1978.

Polo Schools: Where Memories Were Made (All-School reunion booklet)

Undated newspaper clipping on Sacred Heart church history, from the scrapbook of Jennie Schlechter Kluthe

Ugly – In the Eyes of the Beholder?

In Part One of the Ugly Baby Doll story, I wished I knew more about this piece of my history. Using Google, I searched for Ugly Baby Doll and got one hit. Apparently, when you substitute “squalling” for “ugly”, you actually get useful information.

One site about old dolls suggested that most have inscriptions on the backs of their necks. I have to warn you – if you thought the Ugly Face pictures were “Yoogly” (thanks, Greta) just wait till you see the neck pictures. Without further adieu -

 

Yeah, I know. Sorry.

Hidden among the cracks and discoloration were some letters.  All I could make out was “COPR LASTIC PLASTIC 49”. Turns out “COPR LASTIC PLASTIC 49” was stamped on dolls manufactured by the Fleischaker Novelty Company. It was unclear to me if this company also sold the dolls, or if they were sold by Horsman Company. Several companies produced these “squalling” baby dolls, but the Lastic Plastic ones were the earliest, dating back to 1948-49. And speaking of the Horsman company, while they apparently made some attractive dolls, someone there had a mean streak, as is evident by their Bilikin doll of 1909, or the Carnivale Kid of 1915-1918. My doll is looking more attractive by the minute.

The Doll Reference website showed a picture of what Grandma’s garage sale find looked like originally. There were molded tufts of hair, blue eyes, rosy little cheeks, and red lips. While any signs of rosiness on the cheeks or lips have long since worn away on my doll, its eyes are still a faded blue, and there are faint mounds of “hair” on its otherwise bald little noggin.

According to the Doll Reference website, two models of this doll were made: a 16” version, and a 19” version. My doll measures 16”, and at one time allegedly had the ability to make a “squeak” or “cry”, perhaps by one of those irritating squeakers implanted in its little belly. If that’s true, it would explain why Grandma quickly sewed it a new fabric body. I assumed the original body was ripped or rotten; however, Grandma was smart. We didn’t have squeaky toys over at her house. Ever.

 
Plush Memories even has a post from a lady who use to have a pair of these dolls as a child, and would love to be able to find one now. She says, “My favorite dolls when I was little were two of the ugliest little life size twin babies I had ever seen.” See Grandma? I’m not the only one to use the “U” word.

While I’d still have to say this is an Ugly Baby Doll, I have a new respect for it and its origins - 63 years is a long time to hang around being disrespected, especially ~55 years by the same family. Grandma, it took a long time, but I finally have an appreciation for this doll, and dare I say, it’s as precious to me now as you’d hoped for then.  Thank you.
 
Sources:
http://www.antiquedolls-collectors-onlineadvisors.com/Vinyl-Head-Dolls.html
http://plushmemories.com/8728/1948-lastic-plastic-fleischaker-squalling-babies.html
http://www.dollreference.com/horsman_dolls1910-1940s.html