Josef Weis and Katerina Roser. My grandfather Joseph Weiss, who was born in Trier, Germany on Sept. 14, 1858, arrived in New York City as a 19 year-old single male. I do not know if he traveled with friends from Germany or if he was in previous contact with other reliable people, or if he was met by a mutual friend. Nevertheless such arriving immigrants necessarily followed work to America on the basis of rather secure information. After a time he reached St. Louis, and as my sister Catherine relates, met his future wife Katrina Roser, my grandmother, mother

Josef Weis as a young man —

of my mother Minna Weiss.

We know from family comments that my grandfather, whom we called “Opa” (an endearing term known by all Germans) came to this country to avoid German militarism. Had he remained in Germany he would have been subject to mandatory military service in the German (Prussian) army. Having removed himself though, he undoubtedly, reluctantly, and regrettably had to sever family ties of course, but only physically. Correspondence maintained close ties as is evident throughout his life and still exists into my generation, as I have been most fortunate and privileged to make a most enjoyable visit to Germany.

Both the Keller and Weiss relationships for us beginning in our childhood, touched us emotionally and through ensuing years, became the most meaningful. We were aware of many incidents that make life rich and rewarding. We came to appreciate the landscape, the industriousness, the vitality, and above reproach character of these wonderful personalities which affected our lives spiritually as well as economically. If they were a priceless legacy, they paved our way as we followed. It was nice to have been in touch with the present families in the old country and being cordially welcomed by them attests to the strength of the family bond and so what I can reminisce about in these pages gives me special pleasure to record.

After my husband Merl, having taken two years to compile his memoirs, he offered our sons a reading. They suggested to me that it was only fair to them that I write in that vein. Since my sister Catherine Keller had already written a definitive study of the Keller Weiss family branch, she urged me to add a footnote or anecdotes that she was unfamiliar with.

My family, the Kellers, reached American shores in June 1894 as a complete family unit. My paternal grandfather Frederick Keller, had left his birthplace in Hassloch bei Ludwigshaven, Germany, a year earlier to seek a wage earning job so to earn enough to send for his family brood. My grandmother, Barbara Hauck Keller reflected with anxiety the sea voyage with a young baby girl (my Aunt Emma) plus her oldest child and daughter Elizabeth (Lisbeth) about 10 years old and two sons, Phillip, my father, about age six, and his younger brother, Adolph, about four.

Fortunately most of the crossing of the Atlantic was very calm. She remembered that she was able to stand a nursing bottle on the ship's rail and not fear that it would topple over. When they reached Ellis Island in New York City, my Dad had to present the entire family’s possessions for Customs declaration. She moaned inwardly when the cover of the trunk was unsecured, and flung open. She had visions of her extremely careful packing being shunted about and she knew she'd never get it repacked alone, but to her great relief, he merely glanced at the open trunk and passed on. “He knew we were poor people,” she said and she could have kissed him with much gratitude.

Ellis Island

From Ellis Island they took the ferry to the New Jersey train terminal nearby and then took a train to Buffalo N.Y. where she stayed the night. Apparently an utter stranger she met on the train, who was German-born, took her in, gave the children a bath, and saw them off to St. Louis. Unfortunately, due to misinformation, my grandmother left the train in East St. Louis close by, on the east side of the Mississippi River instead of St. Louis proper where my grandfather was patiently waiting. Somehow they eventually arrived in St. Louis. Catherine has a detailed account of their home and life work addresses and school attendance in her compilation of church affiliations and other social occasions.

My father Phillip or Phil, as he was later known, attended elementary school until about age 13 when he and his brother Adolph applied for working papers and my father realized he was expected to help support the family. He was industrious all his life, alert to every-day opportunities to further his education and increase his earnings capacity. After a short time on these shores my Aunt Elsa or Elsie was born, about 1897. My grandmother told me she did not apprise her Germany family of the birth because “Arme Leite wollen nicht Kinder haben.”

My Aunt Elsie relates that my father learned English more easily than his parents and took on the role of surrogate father. He understood more readily what opportunities were available, and he was the source they went to for advice. He advised that she not be a school dropout but take a commercial two-year course at McKinley High and the family agreed to this. She too, was, as all the family, very industrious and held a good responsible secretarial position all her life from the first day. My Aunt Emma and Elizabeth learned the household arts – sewing,

Mathilda, Irma and Edna, and their dresses sewn by Tante Emma

dressmaking, cooking.

Grief struck on the death of Elizabeth in childbirth. Her son was left to her mother's care (i.e. my Grandmother Barbara) until his father Frederick Wilking remarried and claimed his son Arnold. The occasion left bitterness in its wake even though legal aid was sought, but the court decided this some years later. I remember as a young child an election being held in St. Louis where a certain lawyer was running for elected office; under no circumstances would our family vote for him since he was the lawyer who led the Kellers to believe they had a winning chance of retaining custody of Arnold. The loss of this child being taken from the family carried more grief and bitterness which lasted for years; however Arnold’s new stepmother was a loving mother to him, and did permit the growing boy to make a brief visit with his maternal grandparents when they lived on McNair Avenue. The Wilkings’ paternal grandparents lived in Waterloo, only a short distance across the Mississippi River. In later years Arnold commenced a family correspondence, which always received favorable comment.

But in his teen years, his stepmother divorced Wilking, and insisted that she obtain custody of Arnold. The Depression that we all experienced intimately affected his being able to continue his university education so he wrote the family in St. Louis to see what possibilities were available should he be able to transfer credits from Cal Tech to Washington University in St. Louis. After a family consultation, a cross-country railroad coach ticket was purchased for him and he returned to St. Louis and the family. Naturally my grandmother Keller insisted he lived with her unit. At that time the grandparents were living on Wilmington Ave in a newly built five room upper flat.

He completed his courses of study in engineering at Washington University and my father; with Mr. Crunden’s help, found a place for him as a chemist for a company in Wood River in Illinois. A few years later, after being transferred to Louisiana, he met and married Martha. They eventually raised a family: a daughter Myrtle, and two sons, Phil and Richard. My father had been Arnold’s godfather at his baptism and so this nephew’s son was named after my father in his honor. The reunion occurred when Arnold arrived back in St. Louis so naturally my grandmother celebrated with one of her traditional family festive meals made on birthdays and holidays. She was a natural born cook and her foods were all these beautifully, delicately prepared and served. Homemade noodles garnished with crumbs, buttered very fine noodles accompanied with roast pork or roast veal baked in the roaster. Asparagus, pickled red beets, red cabbage, spinach, and in summertime, all the garden vegetables so carefully tended by her. Of course home baked bread especially the rye, my favorite, and her coffeecake and Christmas German Stollen was part of her culinary art. Christmas cookies were baked by the dozens of dozens-Pfeffernisse, anise, macaroons, cutouts of birds and animals, beasts and some torts. My Aunt Emma usually topped off the feast, baking her own angel food cake.

My grandmother Keller had my grandfather set up a typical German flower garden in the rear of the house. It was completely designed in formal beds edged with brick. Paths separated the beds of old-fashioned flowers, marigolds, (stink weeds, she called them), petunias, calliopes, baby's-breath, and of course roses. No one else for blocks around had such a flower garden. Other folk had perhaps a border bed with the rest of the area given over to grass. Bouquets of cut flowers always accompanied anyone who had visited the home and bouquets were regularly gathered to place weekly on Elizabeth’s grave for years and years.

As a child I remember the canning that both my mother and grandmother engaged in during the long, hot, humid St. Louis summers. The canning was done open-kettle method, sealed in tin cans with sealing wax. My mother would melt the hard part of container over the gas flame on the kitchen range and then pour it using a hot pad over the closed covered rims. This would bond and of course could be resealed when it was tapped to break off, when opening a can for use. As time went on glass jars were used instead. Jelly making also took place. Bushels of peaches, pears, plums, grapes, and strawberries were brought in, and occasionally black cherries. We went picnicking and picked berries as a family. After I was married I of course also saw to it that our fruit cellar was so stocked too. It was a very tiring day but I always enjoyed the final results, even though I really disliked the whole process. When automatic refrigerators were a acquired, we still preserved food products for future use. The freezing of food really was a less time-consuming process as one did not need to go at it preparing immense quantities As to baking Christmas cookies I enjoyed that but I have not really perfected the results my grandmother Keller had. The cookie for her particular recipe was a distinct variation of those baked by other German women. I prefer my grandmother's home prize-winning recipe. She used simple ingredients that made all the difference.

We Missouri avenue Kellers lived within one block east and west of our grandparents so we had almost daily contact. It was possible to unexpectedly meet in the same store patronized by both. In fact, my mother was able to shop in the same simple owner-operated small grocery shop used by both grandparents. We also attended the same church service, had the same neighbors and friends. We also attended Fremont school as my Aunt Elsie and uncles on my mother's side had attended, in some cases, even being taught by the same teachers, Miss Will and Miss Hospess. The teachers remembered them. Even when I attended Roosevelt High, my German teacher was the one my aunt Elsie had. In my case the teacher had aged of course and was less strict with the students as most did not have the closeness of the German language as an everyday tool. She did not exert herself and Elsie said she was a very unpleasant person.

As our Keller family was large, birthday celebrations occurred frequently. Aunt Grace, Uncle Adolph’s new wife started off on New Year's Day right after Christmas and New Year's Eve. Then Alice and Tante Elsie had a double event on February 1st. Next came Irma's on April 1st. June was cousin Verna's as was Tante Emma and Opa Keller, and in August came mine. Cousin Carl Jr.’s happened in August, too, and cousin Bob Keller in September along with Lillian’s on the 20th . Father’s was on the 23rd, and later Merl’s on the 25th, then Edna and Catherine November 9th and Oma Keller on December 8th, Mother’s the 16th of December and Uncle Frank on Christmas Day. As I mentioned Opa and Oma made the Sunday drive in the sturdy Darrie automobile. Opa was a director in the Chippewa Saw company located at Broadway and Chippewa for that was the location of the grand new edifice where Irma and I, as striking good looking teens acted on their opening day by passing out free roses to

Birth Certificate of Opa Keller (Zercher)

every visitor and they enticed a hundred people.

Another special party was going on rather behind closed doors in the lower non-public level where the super safe was located. Here highballs were being served and I was innocently enjoying my very first taste. I know now this was illegal, as prohibition was the law of the land. Well suffice it to say I only drank once. Years later when s prohibition was lifted I learned to enjoy an old-fashioned or a daiquiri.

Back to Oma’s birthday. While Oma and Opa were off one Sunday in October on one of their Sunday drives, a family surprise was developing in the dining room. One of my uncles was handy at Jack O’ Lantern pumpkin carving. One appeared, quite large, big enough to insert an electric light in it instead of a candle. The cord was extended to reach a light bulb in the chandelier over the table. The other bulbs were disconnected so that the only light was available from the Jack’s carved out features facing the dining room door. The hope was that, according to plan, after the ride, Oma would be the first one to arrive at the side door. She would unlock the door, reach for the switch and behold! Surprise from the secretly hidden family in the darkened dining room… and it worked! A delicious Sunday night family party celebration was served. The usual Missouri baked ham, German potato salad, homemade pickled relish, (I loved it), sliced cheese, rye bread, (good St. Louis rye) home cooked applesauce, red butter, pickles, and of course a huge three layer birthday cake and ice cream. This was served after we calmed Oma down after her initial scream, which dissolved into laughter. I can still see her now! A great birthday! You know, I don't ever remember it celebrating Opa’s birthday; either of them, Opa Weiss or Opa Keller.

As soon as really cold winter weather was a fact my mother ceased ordering her daily ice delivery and, conveniently, the back icebox was no longer used until the next ice delivery season. Any food that needed to be kept cold was stored outdoors on our back porch. One evening, as my mother put the finishing touches to supper preparations, she asked me to get the cream. For some unknown reason I momentarily forgot that the cream was now outdoors and the force of previous habit sent me ambling to the Oak icebox, which stood in the back hall. Here it was a bit less hot than the kitchen, which was very hot all summer long, especially during the humid St. Louis weather. The unusual flat roofs made for really uncomfortable summer living indoors. So I absent-mindedly made my way to the hallway, turned on the light and opened the upper level door. My startled eyes saw not cream or ice or any other foods, but unbelievably, there sat two beautiful dolls peering at me. Two China faces with open brown eyes, parted lips, tiny teeth and rosy cheeks. Long curls covered the shoulders topped with ruffled brim bonnets, lining the brim with a bit of lace. Their green silk taffeta dresses had a full sleeves gathered at the wrists, and the waistline, gathered at the shirt with a ruffled lace trim near the hem. One of the dollies was dressed in roe and blue changeable taffeta which became purple under certain folds. The other dress glowed in green and gold changeable taffeta. I took all this glory in at a glance. I knew in a flash that this was supposed to be a secret hiding place, obviously Christmas gifts.

I quietly closed the door, crept out of the hall back into the kitchen—-my mother's back was keeping me out of sight to her, and there was enough commotion being made—-my four sisters pushing chairs into place all the while chattering away as usual, to cover myself and my guilt. I then eased out to the porch and completed my errand by getting the cream. I never mentioned my unusual find to anyone there, at least not for the coming year. Christmas found the dollies under the tree, one for me and one for Irma. I still remember that discovery and the unexpectedness of seeing those treasures and I still have the doll although not in her original costume. That doll has since had a change of costume and a new wig. Mother always saved her long strands of black hair which filled the silver hairbrush. She saved the long black hair in a special drawstring little bag and that was taken to a wigmaker who made dolls’ wigs. Women also saved their hair, which was made into switches for their own use, to enhance any hairstyle of the day. That is until

Mina Weis Keller

bobbed hair overtook American modern women by storm.

Memorable and enjoyable were various picnics and parties which for my Oma Weiss’s “Frauenverein” (ladies auxiliary) also involved their members' families. The Badische (from Baden) society held yearly “Sauerkraut und Speck” (bacon) suppers. The women hired a hall, or reserved a picnic grounds, of course in South St. Louis. These were held outdoors in the summer or in amusement parks. The grandmother used the kitchen to cook a meal---mainly sauerkraut and spätzli (home-made noodles or dumplings) with cooked pork. How I savored the spätzli! Oma used to cook theirs in her kitchen and the process was very intriguing. After she mixed the batter, made of eggs and flour, moistened with milk - she eased the batter off the rim of the bowl with a fork--just barely easing off a mere teaspoonful into plenty of salted boiling water. The little balls were rapidly cooked--something like miniature dumplings. When they rose to the surface of the pot they were skimmed into a serving dish--drizzled with brown butter and croutons. UhmmUhmm!

Sometimes, homemade liver sausage or pork sausage was cooked and served as well, with a dish of fresh cooked applesauce and homemade white bread and butter or apple butter. Sometimes smear cheese (Schmierkäse, like cream cheese, also home rendered) was also served with rye bread and chopped chives (Schnittlauch). Oma Weiss also featured Kartoffel Klösschen—potato dumplings. This meant cooking a quantity of potatoes then mashing them and then adding an equal quantity of grated raw potatoes—this is mixed together with a bit of flour. A buttered browned crouton was added to the middle of a ball of the mix and this was cooked in salted boiling water—removed when it rose to the top and served with the gravy made with cooked or roast pork. UhmmUhmm! Then as an added feature—a lull in the band music—provided the moment when the hostess ladies gathered together on stage and danced a number of their folk dances. Eight years old, I was always amazed to think these grandmothers had the energy to perform. I loved to see them pair off—tapping their patent leather one-strap slippers in their white stockings, and the best part was when they faced a partner and shook a finger at her—in time to the music of course (usually in time). Elsewhere I have made a rough notation of the movements.

One of the highlights for us Keller kids was attending the annual Christmas party, that Oma’s Badische Society gave expressly for their grandchildren. This occurred of an evening during our Christmas vacation from grade school, between Christmas and New Year's. (School started again immediately after New Year's Day.)

The party took place usually in the grand glittering ballroom of Cinderella hall on Cherokee Street in South St. Louis. In retrospect it was definitely an elegant ballroom as in later years I compared it to lavish ballrooms I experienced years later during my Washington University social life. There was a stage at the farthest end of the ballroom and entertainment designed for children was the keynote. One of the outstanding memories was being given by a magician. Absolutely mind-boggling starting out with his yards and yards of various colorful silk scarves--which cascaded along with his humorous chatter. Of course we kids filled the hall with laughter--kids laugh at very ordinary chatter--I particularly remember that he referred to his silk scarves as being made of “silk – lock”. He explained that he couldn’t say “silk” (which of course he was saying correctly)

After that marvelous act, the refreshments were served by the ladies--Christmas Candies in fancy containers, as well as other party favors. I must say that our parents did not ever splurge on buying candy (their method of avoiding unnecessary tummy aches). So the only candy and soda pop we enjoyed was meted out to us as gifts from doting relatives and friends. That went for chewing gum – we were never permitted to spend our precious pennies on gum. If we were made a gift of a penny or two, it had to find its way into our banks. This was really a painful act. Occasionally a kind benefactor said, “Buy candy with this”. O Joy! Off to the corner candy shop, or to the druggist’s penny dispenser. Our parents, especially my father, felt that penny candy was really junk--not fit to eat--made in unclean factories. He recalled that in his boyhood on South 9th Street, he could see a workman (perhaps the owner of a shop) sweep up sugar off the floor, and dump it into the containers used to make candy. He was certain that that “floor sweeping” as he called it was reused--to be ingested by some unsuspecting human eventually. And I'm convinced that that was a fact in some instances!

The Badishe Verein also held masquerade parties. They were a great, grand event. We kids lived in anticipation for days ahead-we discussed them forward and backward and recess with our school chums. What to wear? Costumes could be handmade by mother--or even traded from year to year with class friends. Again, Cinderella Hall was the setting--and Hal Hall appropriate a name for a ballroom. Visions of the fairy tale winter in ermines! Prizes were awarded for certain exceptional costumes. We never won. Such heartwarming events may seem extremely simple, contrasted with the sophisticated lives of many children today--but in the absence of TV or radio in those days, colorful episodes made marked impressions in our thoughts and minds. I remember even dreaming colorful dreams.

Our parents made monetary contributions to our church which supported an orphanage. At Christmas patrons sold tickets to a children's benefit stage show at the Odeon on Jefferson near Grand Ave. The mere presence being in such an imposing place as a theater was seventh heaven. The colorful displays with colored illumination and orchestral accompaniment added a dimension to our small worlds to last a lifetime.

To attend a VP parade every yearly unit early October early evening was a city-wide event of great importance. The theme (which changed yearly) was thoroughly discussed in our classrooms--always a pleasant educational experience. Oma and Opa Weiss were members of a lodge--the woodmen of the world. They too, held masquerades, and Christmas parties--once something of a sauerkraut supper, we were indulged in a barbecue, held off in a private grove. I do remember a barbecue served us, of not fully cooked chicken--it was unpalatable--and that was one picnic where I left for home, still hungry. A fiasco in my mind--and we never patronized another barbecue. I'm sure my grandfather must've felt let down by his organization that day, but they were lifelong members, Oma having been presented with an honor of a 50-year Pin, which she proudly wore.

However, the event was not without a treat to top off the day. Oma and Opa always brought us marvelous jumbo fresh pretzels from the pretzel man--or a balloon was forthcoming, or an ice-cream cone--really comforting pacifiers.

Occasionally Opa Weiss took us downtown--a marvelous expedition! One went via streetcar--boarding on Arsenal and Jefferson Avenue and 10 minutes later arriving at Grand Leaders or Scruggs--near the new main riverfront downtown, business district. Everything was upscale. We were in our good clothes--Oma carried her silver mesh bag--a luxurious item if there ever was one. I loved the grandeur of the elegant shops--the elevators, the escalators--and sometimes she treated us to a matinee--again topped off the day with a stop at the marble soda fountain for a chocolate soda.

To go window shopping at a sophisticated emporium lifted my spirits. Especially enticing was to peer into a showcase in which the glass was curved inward and it appeared that you could touch the merchandise because of the illusion that there was no glass. If we went into a shop that was ventilated by overhead fans--this was fascinating to my world--such were not part of a household. Then there were overhead wires which ascended from the main floor to a mezzanine where the business offices held forth. Women clerks who waited on you stashed pencils in their hair buns--alongside hair pins. How worldly! Our school teachers did not permit us to copy that--and boys were not permitted to work with their hands in their pockets. They were expected to comport themselves as young gentlemen.

Pre-Christmas preparations at school were pleasant times. Each grade was busy preparing a school play, learning a Christmas carol, (we had a very small Jewish enrollment--so there were was no opposition that we were aware of in our circles) and on Friday afternoons, academic classes were dispensed with. Colored construction paper, scissors, watercolors and brushes, and paste were passed out. It was a distinct honor to be selected to be in charge of disturbing the supplies. We were making Christmas gifts for our parents!

The climax of the pre-Christmas school busy-ness was to visit the kindergarten where a tremendous Christmas tree was the focus of all excited eyes. Our kindergarten was a really lovely room. The far end was built in an alcove--its semicircular form was lighted all round with windows, Clara St. height. These admitted bright sunshine from above--and beneath them were bookcases with glass doors. In this alcove stood a magnificent tree--higher than our living room ceiling. The kindergarten then that day served as an assembly room and the PTA passed out Christmas candy in lovely cornucopia. After Christmas was over, the kindergarten teacher told us kindergartners to bring presents we have received to class the next day and we sat in our little chairs and proudly showed it--of course, I brought my doll. I had to be careful, as dollies in those days broke easily, which could be heartbreaking. Only at Christmas did we do that and it was a special moment to enable us to ”show off” with permission! Since we had no brothers, it was interesting to see what boys received. I was most impressed with an import from Germany, a real toy steam engine that worked.

Our Fremont school annual picnic was as much anticipated as our church picnics. The first picnic I remember was when I was in kindergarten. For some reason unknown to me I was chosen to parade alongside a fellow kindergartner right behind the hired marching band that led all each grade classes. We gathered on a regular school day in early June in the boys’ recess yard. The band awaited this and somehow we were organized in parade fashion. Preceding the band was a proud marshal (I believe that it was Mr. Ruggs in his regalia) and followed the boy scouts in uniform and of course the color burst. We were led in the pledge of allegiance, united in our national anthem. the school's American flag was raised as usual on the flagpole.

Then the usual stream of march music held forth and we proceeded out of the yard carrying small American flags, north of the school, along Wisconsin Avenue until we reached Charles School, and as we passed the school, all of their students who were not having their annual picnic on that day were at the school’s open windows. We waved our flags and burst into our school cheer. “one two three, three two one. All the schools are on the bum. Stand’em on their heads! Stand’em on their feet! Fremont! Fremont! Can't be beat!” Of course, this was yelled in derision.

After passing Charles school we struck out for Jefferson Avenue for about three blocks where we boarded chartered streetcars and were enroute for a delirious day at Forest Park Highlands--the most glorious amusement park anywhere! My kindergarten outfit was specially made by my mother. It featured a lace sweater made into a garment--I was supposed to be Miss Liberty. My marching partner was a boy dressed in red white and blue to resemble Uncle Sam.

The suspense of waiting for the day to end as a prelude to the anticipated summer vacation, in mid June. When the last day of school arrived we were dismissed, and Irma, Edna and I, report cards in hand we struck out for home with another school yell, politely called a cheer. ”No more classes, no more books, no more teachers sassy looks!”

Summer Vacation

St. Louis summers are unpleasantly hot and humid. Mornings could be cool occasionally. Our parents tried to keep us from overheating ourselves when we ran around like crazy. We loved being barefoot--until the scorching hot cement sidewalks were too much for the soles of our feet. Mother tried to keep us busy learning to sew, embroider, or knit, sitting in the shady gangway between houses. Here it could be cooler as a slight draft eased the humidity. Naturally we perspired--and somehow got dirty. We played ball--at cousin Verna's yard--or tag in the area around houses on our side of the street. We were not permitted to cross Missouri Avenue to play there, but those neighborhood children were permitted to cross to our side.

We played house, made doll clothes. jumped rope, hopscotch, hide-and-go-seek, tag or rolled the tricycle up and down the sidewalks from Pesstalozzi corner to Crittenden corner. Then some with rollers skates--what a heart eased to find the skate key! Heaven help us if we negligently lost our paraphernalia outdoors to be rained on!

The hottest afternoon hours were supposed to be quiet times--we played jacks on our cool smooth marble front porch. I imagine a little quiet was needed to rest adult ears--and windows were open and sounds carried. We did a lot of reading of library books--or exchanging books with friends. Our library branch was not within walking distance and we had to rely on father driving us to the branch library. I remember loving Maida’s Little Shop and Dandelion Cottage.

Mother started us on cross-stitching quilt blocks. One was finally completed by the time I was married. She had it pieced together and quilted by her Ladies Circle at our church. It was a white background, Blue Cross stitch, bordered with blue sashing. Mother paid $18 to have it quilted by them. I used it and cared for it gently. 50 years later it is still serviceable and not faded.

Possessing a hand-done quilt was a precious item. I myself started a quilt, an appliqué titled “Lover's Knot,”. It took me 50 years to complete, as I did not work on it full time. I heaved a sigh of relief--relieved that the feeling of guilt and procrastination was finally obliterated. After that mental block I finally also completed needlepoint seat patterns.

When visiting our grandmother as I said, Oma Keller played games with us. Oma Weiss had a few toys left over from our uncles; boyhood, in a toy box. She added a few toys that she received as prizes, from her lotto games. One particular toy was a woolly bear with real glass eyes. He was affixed to a small wooden platform with wheels that one could pull. Also a point of interest was that under his belly was a small metal ring--pull that out and the bear audibly growled. Such a toy is at present much sought after by antique collectors.

Toys of our childhood were usually easily broken--and sometimes we had to share with one another, so they got hard use. So very little remains today to pass on as an heirloom. I still have my last doll intact--refurbished. I also have a miniature Singer sewing machine--plus one cup from my and Aunt Irma's jointly owned doll china tea set. My Aunt Elsie presented me with a mini-china cup and saucer valued by antique fanciers at $150. The doll named “Emily” is appraised at $250. I have decided to keep the Keller teacup in the Keller side by giving it to Irma to pass on to feminine appreciators.

When girls love movies as much as seeing one--but our parents did not invade the household budget to pamper us in that way. Except to buy a series ticket for Charlie Chaplin, Fatty Arbuckle, and Laurel and Hardy movies, which our church made possible as its moneymaking project.

The church owned a movie projector and screen. The occasion of showing these was of a summer evening, topped off later with selling refreshments. Soda, ice-cream, and cake, watermelon splashes. The refreshments were sometimes served outdoors in a rather pleasant part of the churchyard. Sometimes electrically lighted Japanese lanterns added to the festive mood. A volunteer committee was responsible for such events, and at this moment I feel I must mention how appreciative I now am for their generous efforts.

In writing these accounts for my possible descendants, in noting what our simple quality of life was--is to indicate the contrast of present 1980's for them. In retrospect we lived quietly (I am not unmindful of the happy family noises or sounds when I say “quietly”) but the time lapse between the rich events the family of life gives enough time to pause and then to really enjoy in memory of those highlights--as well as to live on tiptoe in anticipation of future pleasantries. We awaited the arrival of Christmas, Easter, Valentine's Day--national holidays, and birthdays--we knew were regularly forthcoming--the big family always has a birthday celebration around the next corner. For a child, the calendar dates seemed ages apart--or an adult made time span to accommodate and plan those social times. Fortunately Grandmothers seem to have such time to pamper their extended family.

There was a so-called “Nickel show” (admission 5¢) near our school. We Kellers just never patronized it as I have mentioned previously. However our classmates and school chums seem to be able to attend regularly. Where did they get the money? I have perused the thought in my adult years--I can realize now, that their standard of living was really different, meaning a lower economic livelihood or income. Many of my associates had both parents eaking out their daily bread. Their parents had to scrounge for any extra pennies available. In making that possible the children were permitted to pass the time at the show. They obviously did, if not enjoy the privilege of having grandparents living near them, or worse I knew that many friends had no living grandparents.

There were some small visible signs we kids noticed. During the summer, small loads of coal were occasionally delivered by horse and wagon, here and there in the neighborhood. Sometimes the coal was unloaded at the street curb--sometimes at the backyard near the woodshed. We could watch standing by--as a man shoveled it off the wagon-- then that load needed to be transferred shovelful by shovelful into the interior, but first into a wheelbarrow which was then rolled into the yard or to a coal chute if the chute was built into the cellar wall such as our house had. We heard mothers and children mentioned how back breaking off and wearing this job was. My father hired the unloading of coal. I can't imagine such wages that entailed--mighty little, certainly. So men who worked or labored all day had to endure more labor after supper.

Our home had a furnace and so Dad ordered the winter's supply all at once. We knew of families that could afford coal only piecemeal. Sometimes a child came to school who mentioned that her father had “won” a ton of coal--as a prize probably through his lodge. Our father did not belong to any lodge. He was a member of an accounting society--he enjoyed being a member. A social event held about semiannually to which the wives were included was a dinner party in some well-known status symbol dining room or restaurant. Mother enjoyed the evening too!

Crunden Martin Building, Second and Cedar, St. Louis, Missouri

Our father was an accountant at Crunden Martin manufacturing company located on the riverfront at Second and Cedar streets in the shadow of the Free Bridge across the Mississippi River to the state of Illinois. Father had to drop out of school when he was old enough to get a “work permit” from the public school system by law. This was before “child labor laws” were enacted. But my father had a tremendous work ethic drive. He was determined to complete his education and he did so by attending “night school” i.e., adult education. He disciplined himself and applied himself to further his education and his self-esteem. I remember at my school one day in having to “fill out” an information sheet at the beginning of September after vacation in noting his occupation. When I told the teacher, she said “My! Your father has to be very smart to do that!” And I agreed with her, in fact, I guess I even beamed with pride.

My Aunt Elsie related to me in later years that my father even suggested to their father that she be permitted to finish the eighth grade and go on to high school. At that time one could enroll in a two-year business course--take stenography, shorthand, typing, and basic business practice. So it was that she was able to earn a bit more than girls who worked in laundries or shirt factories, or as clerks in the bakery or dry goods store, etc.

I have a recent clipping from the trade journal of the art glass industry. The column mentions my aunt Elsie Keller by name, in a most noteworthy, elementary vein, being appreciative of her many loyal years of faithful service--a role we as a family could be proud of

Tante Elsie (German ‘Elsa’) worked as stenographer directly after completing the high-school business course. She attended McKinley High School, in South. St. Louis on Russell Boulevard--near the St. Marley church where Kellers originally attended before joining Ebenezer Evangelical church.

My Uncle Carl and Uncle Frank, our mother's brothers, also took business courses there. It seems a bit strange--or rather I’m a bit puzzled about the fact that my mother was enrolled in a commercially owned “business school” sometimes erroneously named a “business college”. In later years my mother sat down and wrote me a letter, typing it (just once) and still had the ability--I had not known her ever to type. Of course my father typed at home on a Remington--quite often. As I mentioned his night course was under “Polytechnic Institute” and he had a certificate. I don't know what became of that certificate. I remember it had been framed--as it hung on the wall of the so-called “hall room” which it was until it was ceremoniously turned over to me (alone-a room of my own) except that it held a Singer sewing machine against the wall by the window.

Kids got an amazing knowledge of what movies were about from the kids in school. Before school, standing in line waiting for the bell to ring, in the schoolyard, we were apprised episode by episode night after night. We learned the names of the stars, Pearl White, Dorothy Gish, John Gilbert, Rudolph Valentino etc.

But when the 10 Commandments was released, then we got to go. How well I remember Moses receiving the commandments--bearing two stone tablets, the words were etched into the stone by lightning from on high. I was impressed while the pianist rendered all the proper music as the scene unfolded!

One time Oma and Opa Weiss took me with them to see “Cinderella”. Of all the things I remember that we saw. the most sensational for that time was Eleanor Glyn's 3 weeks. Scuttlebutt and innuendo comments made this movie the central theme of everyday conversation--especially among women who read “True Story” magazine. “True Story” was taboo among decent moral folk, albeit many of course, indulged in secret fantasy. Naturally, a 12 year-old girl couldn't touch it--such a pulp rag--without being besmirched. Somehow Oma and Opa were not privy to this import of movie or they may have forgone seeing it

All I remember of it was this couple in glamorous evening clothes, in a glamorous garden setting, roses, moonlight, with soft music. But what most impressed me was a touch of mood, made with the film being filtered, so that a blue glow enhanced the otherwise black-and-white film. Later when I innocently commented that I had seen it I was met with, “You saw that!?”

When I came home from school one day, I was all a twitter with the news that a man was hypnotized at the Nickel show. I saw him-- he was astride a bicycle, in a trance, the bike was fixed to a board and made immobile, but he was peddling away nevertheless. I saw him in broad daylight in the lobby surrounded by every kid in Fremont school. He was going to be awakened at 9:00 that night on stage. Of course it was a plot to entice customers and of course, we were not there to watch!

However, the event served to teach us Kellers the evil of engaging in hypnosis. Meaning, one does not have the control of one's life or person in that state. To say nothing of the fact that that poor soul so exhibited, was being demeaned by being made the butt of poor taste jokes or otherwise exploitation.

Hypnosis, falsehood, gambling, superstition, plus other unmentionable sins, were all anathema, activities which uneducated poor weak characters should shun and were above all unchristian! Children must be shielded against becoming involved and so we were. We were taught about and heard the word “sin“. We came to understand the awful weight in shame of being sinful. Being thus imbued with its meaning we were led to conduct ourselves accordingly. To lie, be untruthful, to tell falsehood was Sin. It still is, in my view--and I believe that our latter-day 20th-century has avoided the believing, has glossed over the need for discipline and responsibility necessary in a moral society. As to scandal and warfare: the Holocaust with its barbaric and atrocious behavior, [the Keller is shifting views are an open secret?].

After reaching home after seeing that hypnotized subject, naturally I couldn't wait to tell my mother about it. And ask “How did they wake him up?” or undo the trance or enforced or maneuvered state. Oh she said “They stick a pin in him!” Some how or other I didn’t manage to learn the next day at school what really took place that evening at 9:00.

Many years later a Washington U. studying psychology 101, I witnessed our “professor” hypnotize “a willing volunteer student” and how he was brought back to reality. At that class I learned that the event was academically acceptable.

Another time we went out as a Weiss Keller expedition to pick strawberries for jam. I remember needing to hull them later in the day. I thought we'd never finish. I suppose mother had some thought especially for she had to cook the jam. The heat was overpowering in the kitchen, which caught the hottest afternoon sun. No air-conditioning vent, but we did operate a rotating fan to ease ventilation. Later, in September, mother cooked up some chow chow with green tomatoes from our plants in the small backyard city garden. Peaches and pears and stewed tomatoes also found a reserved shelf in our fruit cellar.

In those days mother used the open kettle method (considered not too successful in their day and age) ladling the cooked sugared fruit into quart class canning jars and sealing with rings and glass-lined zinc screw tops. (Now, an antique) Tomatoes were ladled into tin cans, top snapped on and then sealed with hot melted wax which hardened.

Cooking summer meals in St. Louis kitchens was an ordeal. One was living with humidity that sapped energy. Picnic suppers, prepared early in the day, were relied on to ease life. It latter years, small, very useful well insulated electric portable ovens made an appearance on the market and to own one was a godsend. One could carry it to the coal basement and cook a real complete meal. Even bake cakes. About that time, in the '20s, electric refrigerators also made the scene. How welcome! And then the Tathskeller, (the first edition of the recreation living area) found its way into a part of the basement, all to relieve hot weather. To go a bit further, real log burning fireplaces came into them and they became party rooms, and entertainment centers. Then air-conditioning came to the St. Louis area. In the cooler summer weather areas, naturally found in Wisconsin, Michigan, New York State, some did not think air-conditioning was a necessity, then Chicago got it, and soon the churches used it, and in public transportation.

The tourist industry took off when cars installed air conditioning. One could travel comfortably from the East Coast to the West, and even across the desert which formerly, one only crossed at night.

Sad Bad News As I recall the incidents of our family life, there seems to be an abundance of happiness and joy surrounding us, and indeed that is a blessed truth. I do recall knowing for a short time Uncle Adolph’s first wife, Marie, “Tante Marie,” we always said. I remember that she was a sponsor with our Uncle Adolph at Edna's baptism., on Thanksgiving morning in our church. I remember that she was not well, she had severe headaches. And then I was aware of her being in Barnes hospital, a very notable esteemed hospital, then as now. And then I became aware of her death; I was only 5 years old. I was aware of the family grief and being taken to her funeral. After returning from the cemetery which was very muddy, it had rained and I came home with mud all over my good Sunday shoes. Our part time help scraped off the mud for me and we made mud pies.

Year by year as I grew older and still a child the presence of death among my grandparents and parents friends occurred enough to instill and impress me. The simplest explanation and said to us children was that God had taken these personalities to himself so they could be happy. I know now, years later, that Aunt Marie suffered from a brain tumor. Today that kind surgery has been advanced and the recovery is more certain! The enormity of it now almost unbalances me and that is why I mention it. Still so the use of penicillin and such has freed a part of humanity of certain health fears. And a neighbor across the street killed himself--we really didn't know him at all--we had occasionally had a glimpse of him and his family in their yard. I do not even remember his name, only the tragedy remains in my mind.

There were other unhappy events, such as a former neighbor who ran afoul of the law. And of a boy on our block who was molesting little girls, and there was a great anxiety and worry to our parents. All we kids knew was that on no account, under any condition, were we to have any contact, including communication with Emil. But they didn't tell us why, and I forgot and spoke to him somehow (not much as I really disdained him and most other boys in our neighborhood). I was seen by my father, and I never forgot the spanking I got because I disobeyed. The shunning the boy's family got from the adults resulted in the family moving away. Years later, I was able to piece together the meaning of this episode.

Along with the thinking regarding perverts we as children were never permitted to play alone without adult’s supervision in that most inviting Benton Park, just a block away. We were merely told that there were too many old men sitting there day after day with nothing better to do. With six daughters to love and cherish and protect, our parents forbade certain inviting areas for our own good. Of course how we now we can understand.

In retrospect in seems to me that many rather traumatic events occurred when I was about five years old, possibly a bit older. But so it was with World War One. We, being of German background, stopped speaking German with all our German speaking friends and acquaintances. This was especially so for our elders. I remember the sugar shortage. History tells us now that fortunes were made at that time. Indeed, Rhett Butler in “Gone With the Wind”, spoke so and how he meant to take advantage of profit-making, gouging in other words. (In the Second World War they hoped to avoid that by rationing)

I remember My Uncle Carl coming to our home to say goodbye to his sister, mother and me after being drafted and my mother weeping. I remember his homecoming safely as a big and joyful family reunion; I mentioned that in a previous chapter. I remember the trauma of the scourge of the flu epidemic--our neighbor died. My Aunt Elsie was down for two months after getting up too soon. And of churches being closed and schools too. I remember the death of President Coolidge’s college age son, due to a blister becoming infected, caused by playing tennis. My father played tennis and blisters have always seemed ominous since then.

My grandmother’s [Aunt Mary] sister died within days of the Coolidge son. She died after drinking contaminated water from a well at a friend's home just outside the city. St. Louis prided itself on its safe drinking water. She died from typhoid fever. Now of course we have antitoxins to prevent that. But the family tried to console itself by saying even a president's son could not be saved. I remember reading the newspaper, in those days, before radio. Extra editions were published and the newsboys called out loudly on the streets, “EXTRA, EXTRA!” This often meant bad news.

As a small child, I knew that I had a great grandmother and great-grandfather who still lived in Germany, my mother spoke of them occasionally, especially when the family was together and Grandma said, “We had a letter from Germany today.” This was a special event especially after the war, when contacts were resumed. I have a copy of the translation of such a letter, and it is very moving. After reading it now, I was able to piece in the missing words years later. During the war, Uncle Carl could write us occasionally postcards, censored by the army. By saving such mail, I could fathom from the cards the missing words. Our card in particular, was plainly dated 1919. He was stationed by the U.S. Army very near Tours and so he wrote his German relatives and they replied with a letter of March 31st 1919. That letter is in Catherine's account.

Oma Weiss and Opa were generous souls, especially generous to us kids; with pocket money, and with family time or quality time we call it now. Always when we spent personal time with them, the afternoons or day found us enjoying a welcome treat--big fresh hot salted pretzels bought from a corner vendor, an ice-cream cone or a balloon, to say nothing of the abundant presence of baked goodies from the noted St. Louis German bakeries. These goodies surpassed in flavor any modern-day ready mix concoction from a supply line automatic baked gadget. Their generosity also extended to the church, to which there was a lifetime loyalty. The family church observances such as confirmation extended through the generations. Harold Schiffman, recently in 1987, visited the Evangelical Church in Tutschfelden, Germany where Oma was born, baptized, and confirmed. In a letter she wrote to the Rosers years, still living in Trier in the same family home, she relates that her great grandson [Ihr älteste Enkelkind] Gordon was ready to be confirmed in the U.S. in Gowanda, N.Y.

Mathilda Keller, College Picture

All our Kellers also had strong church ties, and our family was unified in the faith., Opa Keller promised me a wristwatch as a confirmation gift. I had to live at least three years with that expectation, and was so proud of that wristwatch which served me all through high school and which I sadly lost a short time later. Impressions were that the band broke, unknown to me. My father placed an ad in the lost and found a column of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and I had a finder who phoned me. I took a streetcar to a downtown office and recovered the watch.

Once on a visit to Oma Weiss, a so-called tramp was sitting on the back porch, eating. Oma had prepared a meal which she gladly shared. With a hop, skip and jump from Benton Park, she often had drop-by hungry guests on the porch. Is presumed that these men had passed the word along, via the grapevine, where food was available.

Since the Keller Weiss families were steadfast church members of Ebenezer; Mother and Father were married there, and all six daughters baptized there.

Wedding Invitation of Philip and Minna

It is noteworthy to remember that whenever the fellowship was motivated to stretch its financial Treasury the family responded generously. When you sit in the pews as the morning sunlight fills the sanctuary, you’ll notice a large stained-glass window on the south side that depicts the well-known scene of Jesus and a lamb. The inscription beneath it indicates it was given by the Keller family. In recent years at my 50th confirmation reunion held there, I took a color photo of it. My grandfather Weiss, being in the marble business, made a contribution of a simple small white marble altar cross. A story of my uncle Gus’s of a marble cross made by him, when he was age 19 before leaving Germany somehow rings a bell.

Oma Weiss's 90th birthday party, in 1954, was observed by a great Weiss family reunion in Ebenezer's social hall. All her friends in the church were naturally invited. We granddaughters each baked cookies to serve and I being the eldest in the Keller branch was honored to be officially seated serving punch and coffee. All the Weiss’s funeral services were held in the church. This simple marble altar Cross and its association loomed in my mind. After we returned from the cemetery, Oma wanted us all to come back home on Jefferson Avenue. She asked Merl and me to go to the butcher’s and buy some ham, then supper appeared.

In organizing the gathering of a lifetime of family mementos, when the naturalization papers of our grandparents surfaced, I thought of the U.S. campaigns and elections I lived through. School days were devoted to making posters and writing essays to enlist the public to vote for school bond (tax) issues.. I remember our teachers telling us that school supplies such as paper and pencils were in very short supply and to prove it, we had to write on both sides of our school work manila paper. I remember thinking, “I don't believe that” as our teacher seemingly had more than enough to pass out. However, I held myself silent. In kindergarten, I heard the principal tell us to tell our parents to go on a boat. Since we lived near the riverside, I told them, puzzled about when they should do that. My parents knew immediately that he meant vote. Later, national elections were a focus. When I was in the eighth grade, party platforms entered our schoolwork, and we had a straw vote. Imagine my amazement to discover that my parent’s man did not win the office. Our man got three votes, against maybe 27. To feel inferior to my classmates was disconcerting but since then I have often throughout my life been in the minority.

I remember the talk in our schoolyard “If my father doesn't vote the way his boss says, he will lose his job.” I carried these ideas home, too. When I was married and living in New York State, in order to vote there, one had to prove ones literacy by taking a literacy test at the polls, given by the local school teacher. I know that bars were closed by law; I suppose schools were too, if she was on duty. The teacher declined to give my husband and me the test. She said it was unnecessary; it was demeaning. We really wanted to test those waters, but she was adamant.

My next opportunity to vote was in the state of Pennsylvania. As I registered the clerk asked my occupation. I being the women's libber 30 years ahead of the times said, “homemaker.” He wrote down, after a few moments of indecision, “housewife.” I have never forgiven him! Since my grandparents emigrated from Germany before World War One, they hadn't voted ever in Germany, as they were subject to the Kaiser. But in America, participating in elections and grateful for enfranchisement, they made use of the opportunity.

In that fount of information during recess, our Fremont school yard, a classmate described animatedly a tent meeting she observed, one hot summer evening. It was held at a vacant city lot in the neighborhood. Being open but under canvas, passers-by became aware of singing and shouting. Especially noticeable from the sidelines was that the group seemed to be rhythmically moving; some fainted, as well, caught up in a religious fervor that is foreign to the customs or rituals of our staid kind of worship. My classmates used the term “Holy Rollers” but she was so excited in relating what she saw, it made an indelible impression on me, as well, mainly because at supper that evening I asked my father to take us so we could enjoy the fun. With that, a lesson was given me to accord respect to everyone's religion, faith, and practices, regardless of how we differ. Naturally I did not want to attend or watch, religious tolerance was firmly fixed in my mind

Many years later during our (Merl’s and mine) first journey to our ancestral homeland of Germany, we became involved in a new religious experience. I had heard my mother relate the event of the Holy Robe Pilgrimage, as told to her by her father our grandfather. By chance, unknown to us, we arrived in Trier Germany, my grandfather birthplace, when the entire city, the oldest in Germany, founded by the Romans, was in a spiritual revival and fervor. Legend has it that Christ's robe, worn at the crucifixion, was again to be exhibited in the cathedral, or Dom, in German. It is shown about once every 25 years to remind the Catholic faithful of the ancient plagues of the Middle Ages.

As we arrived in the city in 1959, we noticed a procession led by young boys garbed in white surplices, carrying banners. The procession was moving along, singing. After reaching our hotel we wanted to go sightseeing. Supplied with a street map we delved into learning about my ancestors. We reached the church where a special preparatory Mass was being held in the German tongue. I bought tickets entitling us to participate in the pilgrimage. I knew that my grandfather was reared in the Catholic faith and our family, though Protestant, respected that. Here we were amidst a congregation along with Christians from all over the world. I remember seeing a lace mantle. During the mass, we became part of a procession just like the one we had seen and hour or so before. Our processional pilgrimage was singing classic Greek majestic German (not Latin) chorales. “Lobet den Heren, grosser halt,” the hymn we knew in English, so we reverently made our way to the Dom, where we wended our way down the aisle to the altar, above which, encased and illuminated in glass was a simple seamless cotton robe. It was more than 100 years old.

Our lower flat on Missouri Avenue was rented to a lovable older couple. I say older because they had a grown son, but we as kids did not see much of him. Father said he rented to them because they were so patient and tolerant, enduring the noise and activity of a big growing family just overhead. He gave them a “reduced rate” for an especially lovely dwelling. Whenever a big crack above their heads thundered, Mrs. M. laughingly repeated “Himmel schmeisst Geld runter!” or “heaven is raining gold”. Mr. M. worked as a City of St. Louis fireman. I was really impressed. He was a jolly person, as was his wife. He worked day and night for a few days, and then had “off “ for a couple. When we encountered him in the yard, he'd ask, “Do you like school? You do? Do you like your teachers? Always?” Amazed that we answered yes and we did like school. Then he'd say, “I always hoped that school would burn down.” I couldn't understand why.

I like school. I loved to read; I remember the moment in first grade when Mrs. P. asked me to read a line from “Sunbonnets Primer”, and how amazed I was that I realized I read correctly. I also loved spelling. I wished we had more spelling bees so I could win! If we had misspelled the word, we were sent to the blackboard to write the word 10 times. I love to write on the blackboard, but never got a chance. One day in third grade, I purposely missed “Turkey” by inverting the ‘r’ and the ‘k’. I got sent to the board. But I hated arithmetic. I had a hard time with fractions and problem-solving, like how much wallpaper is needed for room? Now I'm glad I didn't have to struggle with modern math.

Our family Thanksgiving days centered around the family gathering of grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins around the festive board. After the turkey was carved, to some anticipation, the acquisition of the wishbone was greatly desired. Thanksgiving was celebrated at Oma Keller’s dining room table, covered by a linen tablecloth decked with her cookery, at which she excelled. We kids loved her homemade noodles, dressed in buttered croutons. Many times I saw her mix the dough, roll out the pasta on a floured board, all gold in color, and then slice the strands which were then spread out to dry on her featherbed. After the drying was completed, the noodles were stored for future use. (Recipe follows.)

My mother contributed with home cooked and strained cranberry sauce, which she displayed in a most lovely large china bowl, reserved usually for cranberries where the contrasting color of the berries looked especially inviting in an ornate container. I always wished I could own that bowl. Mother often baked a mincemeat pie. I have since in my kitchen made batches of that in honor of those memories. Mother's dressing was pungent bread, laden with pork sausage, parsley onion, and diced giblets. Merl’s mother introduced me to oyster dressing from her Yankee background.

When we got to New York, Merl and I were so interested in the history of the pioneer life there we learned of the Fosdick connection through real relationships in society and family--the Cacline that gave us a perspective. Mr. Cacline was an exceptional character - a story in itself. The original families came to the Boston valley and hills by oxcart from the East, in search of better farming soil. [Solomon Fosdick built the Boston Church and also served as a schoolteacher in the area. Later he founded the Buffalo school system (!) and went on to even greater things.} The Boston church had previously honored a “Select School for Girls” an interest keenly felt by Solomon Fosdick, a 15 year-old teacher. He carried a book of lesson plans. Among the opening pages – something Raymond [Fosdick, his grandson] later showed us, read “Permit me to lecture you on the impersonal pronoun”.

I was deeply impressed. Merl’s father had inspired talents, such as making lovely hand made furniture, like the snow carriage sled we all used as a magazine holder and a patio piece of wrought iron décor we used for potted plants. He also grew beautiful Christmas trees. I used his tree grown from seedlings as a basis of a paragraph and idea for my Christmas ornament I submitted to the “Smithsonian Celebration”. It was a prizewinner.

Among the other first experiences I had was my first ever trip to a county fair, and I was bold enough submit my embroidery and won first place, about $20. Not bad for a preacher's wife whose husband earned about $18 each week with percentage thrown in.

Speaking of money, in the third pastorate to Gowanda New York, a very lovely area of noted natural woods and hills, I spent a few weeks now and then as a substitute teacher; really most of the time it was one day teaching work, only, where I earned about $10 a day. This during World War Two, as a substitute, because the men were being drafted. And we paid our first income-tax, and my little tax removed from my earnings paid for one quarter to the US. Merl and I, when living in our parish in Boston N.Y., made after [five years before for Taylor Pennsylvania??].

Those fine years were filled with all kinds of new experiences for both of us. We had visualized these events differently, especially for me on learning what a farmer's life was, or for me living in western New York State near Buffalo, {??a public seminary, listen } establishing our new and first and only marriage, acquiring the baby sons Gordon and Harold, establishing family life.

The next event of a lasting memory was as a preacher's wife, and the planning and living for the 110th anniversary of the Boson church. We learned of its founding and history and appreciation of early American architecture and of it’s being built by Solomon Fosdick, the grandfather of Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick. (We gave Harold that illustrious middle name). Having been invited to the New York City office of Harry and his brother Raymond, president of the Rockefeller Foundation which had its office in Rockefeller Center, was my first visit to a world famous metropolis.

Before that experience, Merl felt that the entire of the church edifice needed a traditional lectern for reading the Holy Scriptures. The simple worship area featured an impressive pulpit, placed center, and really high with two sets of stairs on each side.

Being a small church with no fellowship, with not much expense allowed, Merl asked his father Alexander G. Schiffman to build a lectern of chestnut (or perhaps oak). We revisited the church for a few times, whenever we have been in the Dunkirk family home. But after over 50 years, the church has built an impressive new building, with contemporary architecture, a mile out of town, the community had expanded over the years, and clearly evident, but still set in the lovely secure, hilly aspect of old. Merl’s father’s lectern was moved to the new edifice and is used regularly in the new setting and fits in harmoniously [The old church is now a historical museum. (hs)]