Schedule a reunion and they will come. A Govert reunion. No one would miss this reunion. No one. Not Howard Jacobs. Not Charles and Zee Laflin. Not Mitch and Nikla Kulisich. Not Forrester and Louise West. Not Nick Lale. Not the Giese sisters or the Hafner brothers. Not Smokey Joe. Not Gus Toble. Not Theodore Vogt or his brother, Ernest. Not Evaline West or her sisters, Alice Mae or Shirley Jean. Not Marie Kulisich.
No one would miss this reunion. Not Govert Van der Boom. Not his wife, Emma. Not his sons, Virgil, Gordon, or Roger. If a reunion could roust the founding family of Govert from the grave, why would other Goverites hesitate to break a path back to Govert, South Dakota, back to the beginning?
No one would want to miss this reunion ... a reunion where every man, woman, and child bearing allegiance to Govert, South Dakota, would gather to share the stories of their lives.
Schedule a reunion and they will come.
They appeared over the horizon from every direction, these former neighbors. From North Dakota by way of Buffalo and Reva, crossing the Slim Buttes. From the west, leaving sunny homes where they retreated in retirement after years of buffeting by the icy Harding County wind. From the south, joining other reunion travelers northward by way of Rapid City and Belle Fourche and Newell. From eastern states they came, crossing the Missouri River to reach the prairie lands rolling away from the western bank.
They came hunched over from days astride the back of a horse, or bumping along in buckboards, rattling in carts, cruising in the relative comfort of a Model T or a Model A. They came perched on tractors and harvesters, roaring on motorcycles, cruising on bikes, and and peddling tricycles, little legs pumping hard. And some arrived footsore. But no one was going to miss this reunion.
Charles Laflin's wagon came into sight first, Govert newspaperman and booster, eager to gather again those he once rallied into community. Just then appeared Mitch and Nikla Kulisich in their Chevy, wheels flattening the prairie grass, small particles of soil rising behind them as dust. Forrester and Louise West pulled up alongside in their '39 Ford pickup truck. Gustav Toble, eating the dust of the Ford and Chevy, while raising his own, watched for familiar landmarks over the backs of the mule team straining against the weight of the wagon, the wheels turning, turning, over the prairie grasses, returning Gus to the place that gladdened and saddened his heart, toward the town that gave him a place to be during the Depression years.
Look! Do you see Howard Jacobs who, together with Govert Van der Boom, founded the prairie crossroads town of Govert? He's there - look - over there to the west - his buggy rolling sedately toward the Govert Store, Laura Belle sitting elegantly at Howard's side on the leather seat.
A 9-year-old Howard Jensen appears riding bareback, his lips pressed together insistently, his mouth watering at the thought of the chocolate and caramel candy bar he would buy on his father's account at the Govert Store.
The Hafners arrive as they did in 1913 from the east, in two covered wagons, trailing a herd of cattle and a herd of sorrel horses with startling blonde manes. Ollie Nelson, on horseback, joined his friends Peter and William as the three maneuver the herds forward toward Govert. Peter's wife, Clara, and Clara's sister, Lora Giese, reins in hand, pointed the teams and wagons toward Govert, eager to return to the place they raised their families.
And there's Dina Olthoff, looking uncomfortable sitting astride a white horse, still wearing the heavy Dutch dress she safeguarded on the ocean voyage from Holland, a dress better worn sidesaddle. Peter Rosenthal rides the black horse beside Dina ... Petrus ...the reason Dientjie made the journey to New York by ship, and then west to South Dakota by train.
Schoolmarm Dixie Blomberg sits lightly, trusting her horse to pick his way across the prairie, Dixie's eyes skimming the prairie grasses for the hint of purple of the prairie lilies. The schoolchildren abandon their game of tag, tearing across the gumbo flat, shirts and skirts flapping. Miss Blomberg! Miss Blomberg! Dixie pauses, surprised to see the small up-tilted ovals, eager, full of smiles and dirt smudges, the children, her children, clustering around her, drawing her back into their lives.
The matronly figure of a woman in a floral-patterned house dress, apron askew in the breeze, walks briskly from east of the Govert Store. As the distance closes, the Van der Boom boys run out to greet their aunt, Lydia Gee, and to get a better look at the two deep-green watermelons their cousins, Melvin and Russell, lug to the reunion feast. That this was not the season for harvesting watermelon gives them no cause for concern.
Schedule a reunion and they will come.
They come from the years leading up to 1909, when open range ranchers, and squatters, and then homesteaders claimed the prairie. They come from the 1910's and the 1920's when Govert was full of hope, and growth still seemed possible. They come from the '30s and 40's when only the very hardy dared to remain on the prairie. And they come from the 1960s when Elizabeth Marty May, now a member of the South Dakota House of Representatives, was a schoolgirl at the Govert School. The Brinks are there. Howard Jensen's son, Doug, is there. Everyone is at Govert for the reunion.
These are the homesteaders, the farmers, the ranchers who made their lives in and near Govert Township. These are the farm hands who stayed for a season or two, like Cornelius Kraatzenbrink ... and the families who left before the census taker ever knocked at their door, like the Putmans. These are the men, women, and children who felt the embrace of the Govert community.
As familiar faces and forms streamed over the horizon, Govert Van der Boom fidgets in the doorway of the Govert Store bestowing his bright smile on the earliest arrivals, favoring the children with the twinkle in his eye. Next door in the residence, Govert's wife, Emma, eager and impatient, cheeks red, stirs the pots and casts a nervous peek into the oven of the hot woodstove ... pausing now, one hand on her hip, straightening, to ease the ache in her back. She slides the roast out of the oven and the table trembles when the pan falls into line with the ham and the pies. A waft of earthy rich coffee from the big pot on the stove floats out the window overlooking the Slim Buttes.
Eunice Jensen's frosted layered white cake ... with the filling of ground raisins and nuts baked into a custard ... bounced on her knees as Hugo pulls on the steering wheel in a futile attempt to avoid the ruts deeply engraved into the dirt road passing in front of the Govert Store. Louise West's dozens upon dozens of oatmeal cookies bulged in the re-purposed cloth flour bags, a bounty proudly carried by Evaline and Alice Mae and Shirley Jean. Nikla Kulisich carried a brilliant strudio, her offering for special gatherings. Dina Rosenthal brought salmon croquettes. And someone brewed up a pot of oysters and milk into a bona fide oyster stew.
Others brought sandwiches layered on fat slabs of richly buttered, freshly made bread. They brought hot potato salad, cold potato salad, cabbage salad, chicken salad, deviled eggs, meat and vegetable casseroles of every description, and dishes with the exotic appeal of Croatian, Dutch, German, Belgian, Scotch, and English influences. Everyone brought a bowl mounded high, a heavily laden platter, a sloshing pot to add to the feast, because that is what they expected of themselves and their neighbors. That was the way they socialized in the years gone by when Govert was their home. That same community sharing, personal responsibility, and self-sufficiency remain the tradition in Harding County, honored ever more by the passing of the years. The joy of the potluck dinner lives on.
I wouldn't miss this reunion, not for anything. Would you? Heaven on earth is the opportunity to ask the questions you never thought to ask while you still could ask them.
Schedule a reunion and they will come. Follow this link to call the roll.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to SD Representative Elizabeth Marty May, SD Representative Sam Marty, Myrna Giannonatti, Howard Jensen, Patricia Dreesen, Frank Goodell, Marie Kulisich, the West sisters, to everyone who shared their family stories of Govert, South Dakota, with me over the years.
If you would like to return to the list of invitees in the future, you will find "Govert Roll Call" on the right hand panel of the blog itself at ThruPrairieGrass.blogspot.com.]
Showing posts with label Lale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lale. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Oh That Strudio!
Think back ... think back to 1941. Back to December 25, 1941 ... to Christmas day 73 years ago today.
Now picture Christmas dinner, the meal your mother, your grandmother, your great-grandmother, or maybe even your great-great-grandmother labored so lovingly to prepare.
And now, picture dessert. Even if dessert did not follow most meals in your house, today was Christmas day, and surely, oh surely, your meal would end with a sweet treat and a contented smile. Yes, Christmas day was special for many reasons, and a fancy dessert was one of them.
Now, tell me, what was the dessert served in your home or your grandmother's home December 25, 1941? Was it an angel food cake or a cherry pie? Did you eat plum pudding? Did this detail of Christmas dinner slide into the silence of lost memories?
Marie remembers. Marie, called by her Croatian name, Marija, was eleven years old by Christmastime in 1941. Marie remembers because Mother, referred to by the rest of the Govert community as Mrs. Kulisich or as Nikla, baked a Croatian dessert on special occasions. And Christmas was a special occasion everywhere, including the Kulisich Ranch two miles south of Govert, South Dakota.
On Christmas Eve in 1941, Mitch Kulisich woke at 5 o'clock in the morning, the same as every morning. Mitch braced himself against the cold as he lit the kindling in the cook stove in the kitchen, the same as every morning. Today was special though, this he knew. After 25 years of marriage, Mitch and Nikla had no secrets. Today was Christmas Eve and Mitch knew Nikla was in a baking mood.
Nikla felt the mattress shift and then she sensed Mitch's absence. She lifted her arms and stretched in bed, smiling as she followed the familiar early morning noises ... the soft thud of Mitch's feet against the wood planks as he moved about the house, the groan of the door to the firebox as Mitch added wood to the stove, a scraping as Mitch lifted the bucket to fill the kettle with water, and then a firm thunk as the heavy kettle of water was seated on the cast iron stove to heat.
How Nikla loved this house! One big room where they all slept, an attic, plus a kitchen added as a sort of lean-to. The house was built four feet into an earthen bank and so was warmer in winter and cooler in summer. She was content here.
For the first 19 years of their marriage, they lived in what had been Mitch's homestead shack, a mile to the west. That house had grown into a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen by the 1920s, but burned to the basement in the summer of 1935. Marie remembers her father sitting in the doorway of the granary after the fire, wiping his eyes with a big red handkerchief. They lost everything and then lived out the Depression cooking and sleeping in the cramped granary. Five years they lived in the granary.
Then, in June 1940, Mitch and Nikla moved their family to the old Kinney place, where this very day Nikla was stretching in bed. And now Nikla was just where she wanted to be, with a big kitchen about 12 foot by 20 foot, large enough for a work space and a separate area for a table and chairs where the family could sit together for meals, and where they could entertain neighbors who came calling.
Nikla came to America from Croatia in 1914, a teenager, traveling alone, speaking not a single word of English. She worked at a cousin's house in a Slav neighborhood in Lead, South Dakota, to pay off her fare from the old country. Two years after she arrived in a country foreign to her in every way, Nikla married this Slav man whose soft thudding footsteps now comforted her in the early morning hours. She moved from poverty in Croatia, to poverty in Lead, to poverty in Govert.
Their life was not without luxuries. Living in this house was one of them. And another was waking to a wash basin of hot water. Nikla had to wonder whether the husband of any other woman in Govert gave his wife, morning after morning, year after year, the gift of hot water in which she could dip her wash cloth. She knew she was among the very fortunate to have married a man who was so strong and capable, yet protective and gentle to her and their children.
Mitch was confident his favorite breakfast would be on the table this Christmas Eve morning. He just knew. Special days were like that - the surprise that no longer surprises, but still pleases. His eyes rested on Nikla where she stood over the wash basin of hot water, brushing a towel over her wet face, his gaze uninterrupted as she lifted her apron from the back of the chair where she left it the evening before. Nikla adjusted the apron, knotting the ties around her waist, as she moved toward the stove, and Mitch's eyes turned with her as she added coffee grounds to the open pot and put on cereal to cook. Corn meal mush. Mitch smiled, his confidence rewarded. Corn meal mush, bread and butter, and coffee. His favorite breakfast. This was indeed a special day.
After breakfast, Mitch hefted his heavy coat over his shoulders, fastening it close around him and, taking a deep breath, he plunged into the cold Harding County air. While Mitch checked the sheep, Nikla opened the door to the firebox to evaluate the wood still burning there. She nodded with approval at the extra wood piled by the stove where her son, Tony, left it the night before. Then Nikla pulled out her cutting board and her knife and set to roughly chopping dried prunes and dried apricots.
Nikla welcomed the familiar chopping rhythm. As she reduced the dusky prunes and nectar-colored apricots to chunks, Nikla gave thanks for the two men who sent the dried fruit to this place so far away. Mike Sentovich, the corner grocer in Slav Alley in Lead, deputized the mailman for his delivery, and Mitch's brother, Anton, sent sacks of prunes from California, big sacks weighed by the tens of pounds. Without the dried fruit, the Kulisiches would have had no fruit at all. Fresh fruit was not easily or inexpensively available to them.
Nikla piled the chunks of dried prunes and apricots in her big sauce pan and threw in a handful of raisins. She carried the sauce pan to the stove and added water from the kettle Mitch had set to boil on the stove earlier that morning. The dried fruit, now simmering in water, re-hydrated, plumping up by the minute.
While the texture of the dried prunes and apricots was transformed to a silky softness, Nikla finished her morning chores. She washed and dried the breakfast dishes and stacked them in the tall, free-standing cupboard. Feeling the satisfaction of a job well done, Nikla swept the wide wooden planks in the floor, and proudly put her house in order. And all the while, Nikla kept her eye on the simmering fruit so the pan would not boil dry.
When the fruit had softened and the sauce had thickened, Nikla removed the pan from the stove to the table. With her hands, Nikla smoothed the bibbed apron protecting her cotton dress. Nikla always wore a dress; trousers, jeans, and overalls were for men, and for her young tomboy daughter, Marija. Nikla's dress was a print, either yellow or green, her favorite colors. Nikla's apron was also a print, either yellow or green ... and, print against print, apron against dress, the effect was just right.
While the fruit cooled, Nikla paused from her housekeeping, paused from her baking, paused from the sights and sounds that made her life here on the ranch near Govert so comfortable and, for a moment, the peace in her domain cracked. The Pearl Harbor attack, now 18 days past, still gnawed uncertainly on her world. Nikla was sure Pearl Harbor was far away, maybe even as far away as her home in Croatia where she had not returned, and now would never return. Safety comes with distance, but a mother knows the distance can never be far enough when she has sons. Tony was 22, and John was 20. But it was Christmas Eve, and Nikla tended to the preparations in front of her, the same way she approached everything in her life.
With the fruit still cooling, Nikla entered into the great mystery of creating strudio. She pulled her mixing bowl and big mixing spoon from the cupboard, her rolling pin, and her baking pan, and set out the bag of flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and the small tin of ground cinnamon. And the can of nuts. And a muslin towel. Nikla was ready.
The towel was the key, and Nikla prepared that first. She spread the towel on the table and sprinkled the towel with flour. Then Nikla broke two eggs into her mixing bowl. She beat them well, until the color was lemony, the color of the yellow in her dress. She added flour to the beaten eggs, the amount depending on the eggs, as Nikla never used measuring cups. When the eggs and the flour clumped into a ball and was no longer tacky to the touch, Nikla patted the ball flat and, placing the disk on the floured towel, she picked up her rolling pin.
Nikla rolled the dough thin, into a circle. Then she spread the fruit over the surface of the dough, followed by what must have been a cup of chopped nuts. She dotted the entire surface with butter, and followed that with a sprinkling of sugar and of cinnamon.
And then Nikla rolled her strudio. Lifting the edge of the floured towel, Nikla gave the towel a quick tug and an upward jerk and the edge of the dough closest to her flipped over. Another tug and jerk of the towel, and then another, and the fruit covered dough turned upon itself again and again until one layer, then a second layer, and then a third layer of the dough formed a roll. The rolling is the mystery of the creation of what would be a stunning strudio.
All that was left now was to spread butter on the strudio and to bake her pastry creation in a medium oven, a temperature Nikla would judge by her senses - which we would describe as 350 degrees. When the strudio was lightly browned, after an hour in the oven, Nikla's dessert was ready for her Christmas table the following day.
Today 11-year-old Marija is 84, and her mother's strudio remains a favorite memory of childhood. She remembers Nikla's dough, when baked, had a crunchy texture, almost like noodle dough. As an adult, grown-up Marie baked her own version of strudio for her children, adding shortening to Nikla's recipe to make the crust more like pie dough. In this way the tradition of Nikla's Christmas strudio was passed to another generation.
The story about making Christmas strudio was to have ended here. You were to have scrolled down to a photo of a stunning strudio, a long, well-turned roll of fruit-filled pastry, browned to perfection, with a slice on a plate to show the symmetry of the spiral of pastry and fruit. With that in mind, my research plan for the story included baking both a strudel and a strudio. As it turns out, writing Marie's story about her mother's strudio was a lesson not to count my strudio before they are baked.
The first thing I learned in this culinary research is that strudio and strudel are not the same thing at all. Although both appear as rolled pastry, the strudel has a fruit-filled center with layers of pastry on the outside. In a strudio, the fruit is dispersed throughout the layers of pastry. In publishing Nikla's recipe, the St. Mary's Catholic Altar Society cookbook functionally translated "strudio" as "fruit roll".
You probably won't find the word "strudio" in a Croatian cookbook; Marie and I didn't. Still, Nikla was not the only Croatian woman to bake strudio. The Lales, another Croatian family with Govert ties, also celebrated special occasions with strudio. Whether the word originated in a community in Croatia or whether it originated in Govert, whether the inspiration was that of Nikla Kulisich or Pauline Lale, whether the word was recorded by history as strudio because of Nikla's Croatian accent or Marie's American ears, "strudio" is the word that survived.
Strudio and strudel are not the same, but similarities do exist. The same floured towel technique is used for rolling both a strudio and a strudel. The filling is the same. But for slicing the rolled pastry, not even Mitch would be able to tell the difference because, straight out of the oven, a strudio and a strudel appear identical. Had I not dipped my hands in the flour like Nikla did, had I not used the floured cloth to coax the dough into roll, I might have missed the probable answer to the origin of the word "strudio". Maybe the word really is the invention of immigrants. Not a strudel, but something like a strudel, so a strudio. Or, as my husband said, having cheerfully assumed responsibility as taste tester, "strudel-ish".
My research strudel turned out quite well. Nicely shaped, golden brown, an enviable result, perhaps beginner's luck. The appearance of my research strudio was, well, not so nice, certainly not stunning like Nikla's strudio. Russ, as official taste tester, reported to me, "I agree the strudio is not as pretty as the strudel, but the flavor is much better". I was surprised. And my taste tester continued sampling the strudio.
Like Russ, Mitch would have happily eaten the strudio I baked but, without a picture of a stunning strudio, my preconceived ending to the story fell into doubt. I could not in good conscience pass off a picture of the successful strudel as strudio. This was, after all, a story about strudio. So I did what any author with a rigid plan would have done: I considered making a second strudio.
And then the muse who is inside of each of us, if only we listen, nudged me. And, for once, I listened. Sometimes we have to be reminded that things are not always what they appear to be. The image of the strudio I had labored over so hopefully was not one I was willing to commit to the public eye, but the flavor was better than that of the more attractive strudel cousin. The strudio was not what it appeared to be. First, it wasn't a strudel at all and, second, my sad little strudio was a happy mash of pie dough and fruit. My muse smiled and went back to sleep.
Things are not always what they appear to be. And, just as my muse repeated to me ... things are not always what they appear to be.
Maybe this story isn't what it appears to be.
Consider this. Applying an economic standard, Nikla and Mitch appear to be poor.
But were they poor? Things are not always what they appear to be.
Maybe this story is not about strudio after all. Maybe this is a story about Nikla and Mitch.
MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM GOVERT, SOUTH DAKOTA!
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to Marie Kulisich for her memories.
The photograph in this blog post is used with the permission of Marie Kulisich. In the back row are John, Ann, and Tony. In the front are Marie, Mitch and Nikla.
Gratitude is owed to Robert Jerin, who has been kind to entertain my questions on all things Slavic since 2010. Robert has long been associated with the Croatian Heritage Museum in Cleveland, Ohio, and is the moderator of the Croatian Heritage and Genealogy page on Facebook. Robert was not familiar with a Croatian word like "strudio". Robert advised that the Croatian word for strudel is strudla (pronounced like shroodlah). He suggested the possibility that "strudio" may derive from dialect or family tradition.
The natural concerns of a mother for her sons following December 7, 1941 were to become very real for Nikla. The son she and Mitch named John Govert Kulisich joined the Marine Corp in 1942. John served as a Corsair pilot, and remained in the Marine Corps until he retired as a Master Sergeant in 1962. Tony (formally named Anton after his uncle) was deferred from service in World War II because his labor was necessary to maintain ranch operations.
Marie tells me that wood produces a faster, hotter fire. Wood was preferred in the kitchen for cooking and baking. The stove in the second room was fired with coal. Coal was good for banking the fire at night as the coal did not burn as fast. Paul Ellis operated a coal mine near the Slim Buttes, and he provided coal to most of the Govert community. The wood the Kulisich family burned in the cook stove came from the Slim Buttes, with Mitch and his sons collecting the wood in the fall. If wood were ever in short supply, a Govert family would use whatever fuel was available. Nikla might have baked her strudio in an oven fired by coal this Christmas Eve in 1941.
The cookbook published by the St. Mary's Catholic Altar Society in Newell, South Dakota, is undated, but Marie believes publication preceded 1973.]
Now picture Christmas dinner, the meal your mother, your grandmother, your great-grandmother, or maybe even your great-great-grandmother labored so lovingly to prepare.
And now, picture dessert. Even if dessert did not follow most meals in your house, today was Christmas day, and surely, oh surely, your meal would end with a sweet treat and a contented smile. Yes, Christmas day was special for many reasons, and a fancy dessert was one of them.
Now, tell me, what was the dessert served in your home or your grandmother's home December 25, 1941? Was it an angel food cake or a cherry pie? Did you eat plum pudding? Did this detail of Christmas dinner slide into the silence of lost memories?
Marie remembers. Marie, called by her Croatian name, Marija, was eleven years old by Christmastime in 1941. Marie remembers because Mother, referred to by the rest of the Govert community as Mrs. Kulisich or as Nikla, baked a Croatian dessert on special occasions. And Christmas was a special occasion everywhere, including the Kulisich Ranch two miles south of Govert, South Dakota.
On Christmas Eve in 1941, Mitch Kulisich woke at 5 o'clock in the morning, the same as every morning. Mitch braced himself against the cold as he lit the kindling in the cook stove in the kitchen, the same as every morning. Today was special though, this he knew. After 25 years of marriage, Mitch and Nikla had no secrets. Today was Christmas Eve and Mitch knew Nikla was in a baking mood.
Nikla felt the mattress shift and then she sensed Mitch's absence. She lifted her arms and stretched in bed, smiling as she followed the familiar early morning noises ... the soft thud of Mitch's feet against the wood planks as he moved about the house, the groan of the door to the firebox as Mitch added wood to the stove, a scraping as Mitch lifted the bucket to fill the kettle with water, and then a firm thunk as the heavy kettle of water was seated on the cast iron stove to heat.
How Nikla loved this house! One big room where they all slept, an attic, plus a kitchen added as a sort of lean-to. The house was built four feet into an earthen bank and so was warmer in winter and cooler in summer. She was content here.
For the first 19 years of their marriage, they lived in what had been Mitch's homestead shack, a mile to the west. That house had grown into a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen by the 1920s, but burned to the basement in the summer of 1935. Marie remembers her father sitting in the doorway of the granary after the fire, wiping his eyes with a big red handkerchief. They lost everything and then lived out the Depression cooking and sleeping in the cramped granary. Five years they lived in the granary.
Then, in June 1940, Mitch and Nikla moved their family to the old Kinney place, where this very day Nikla was stretching in bed. And now Nikla was just where she wanted to be, with a big kitchen about 12 foot by 20 foot, large enough for a work space and a separate area for a table and chairs where the family could sit together for meals, and where they could entertain neighbors who came calling.
Nikla came to America from Croatia in 1914, a teenager, traveling alone, speaking not a single word of English. She worked at a cousin's house in a Slav neighborhood in Lead, South Dakota, to pay off her fare from the old country. Two years after she arrived in a country foreign to her in every way, Nikla married this Slav man whose soft thudding footsteps now comforted her in the early morning hours. She moved from poverty in Croatia, to poverty in Lead, to poverty in Govert.
Their life was not without luxuries. Living in this house was one of them. And another was waking to a wash basin of hot water. Nikla had to wonder whether the husband of any other woman in Govert gave his wife, morning after morning, year after year, the gift of hot water in which she could dip her wash cloth. She knew she was among the very fortunate to have married a man who was so strong and capable, yet protective and gentle to her and their children.
Mitch was confident his favorite breakfast would be on the table this Christmas Eve morning. He just knew. Special days were like that - the surprise that no longer surprises, but still pleases. His eyes rested on Nikla where she stood over the wash basin of hot water, brushing a towel over her wet face, his gaze uninterrupted as she lifted her apron from the back of the chair where she left it the evening before. Nikla adjusted the apron, knotting the ties around her waist, as she moved toward the stove, and Mitch's eyes turned with her as she added coffee grounds to the open pot and put on cereal to cook. Corn meal mush. Mitch smiled, his confidence rewarded. Corn meal mush, bread and butter, and coffee. His favorite breakfast. This was indeed a special day.
After breakfast, Mitch hefted his heavy coat over his shoulders, fastening it close around him and, taking a deep breath, he plunged into the cold Harding County air. While Mitch checked the sheep, Nikla opened the door to the firebox to evaluate the wood still burning there. She nodded with approval at the extra wood piled by the stove where her son, Tony, left it the night before. Then Nikla pulled out her cutting board and her knife and set to roughly chopping dried prunes and dried apricots.
Nikla welcomed the familiar chopping rhythm. As she reduced the dusky prunes and nectar-colored apricots to chunks, Nikla gave thanks for the two men who sent the dried fruit to this place so far away. Mike Sentovich, the corner grocer in Slav Alley in Lead, deputized the mailman for his delivery, and Mitch's brother, Anton, sent sacks of prunes from California, big sacks weighed by the tens of pounds. Without the dried fruit, the Kulisiches would have had no fruit at all. Fresh fruit was not easily or inexpensively available to them.
Nikla piled the chunks of dried prunes and apricots in her big sauce pan and threw in a handful of raisins. She carried the sauce pan to the stove and added water from the kettle Mitch had set to boil on the stove earlier that morning. The dried fruit, now simmering in water, re-hydrated, plumping up by the minute.
While the texture of the dried prunes and apricots was transformed to a silky softness, Nikla finished her morning chores. She washed and dried the breakfast dishes and stacked them in the tall, free-standing cupboard. Feeling the satisfaction of a job well done, Nikla swept the wide wooden planks in the floor, and proudly put her house in order. And all the while, Nikla kept her eye on the simmering fruit so the pan would not boil dry.
When the fruit had softened and the sauce had thickened, Nikla removed the pan from the stove to the table. With her hands, Nikla smoothed the bibbed apron protecting her cotton dress. Nikla always wore a dress; trousers, jeans, and overalls were for men, and for her young tomboy daughter, Marija. Nikla's dress was a print, either yellow or green, her favorite colors. Nikla's apron was also a print, either yellow or green ... and, print against print, apron against dress, the effect was just right.
While the fruit cooled, Nikla paused from her housekeeping, paused from her baking, paused from the sights and sounds that made her life here on the ranch near Govert so comfortable and, for a moment, the peace in her domain cracked. The Pearl Harbor attack, now 18 days past, still gnawed uncertainly on her world. Nikla was sure Pearl Harbor was far away, maybe even as far away as her home in Croatia where she had not returned, and now would never return. Safety comes with distance, but a mother knows the distance can never be far enough when she has sons. Tony was 22, and John was 20. But it was Christmas Eve, and Nikla tended to the preparations in front of her, the same way she approached everything in her life.
With the fruit still cooling, Nikla entered into the great mystery of creating strudio. She pulled her mixing bowl and big mixing spoon from the cupboard, her rolling pin, and her baking pan, and set out the bag of flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and the small tin of ground cinnamon. And the can of nuts. And a muslin towel. Nikla was ready.
The towel was the key, and Nikla prepared that first. She spread the towel on the table and sprinkled the towel with flour. Then Nikla broke two eggs into her mixing bowl. She beat them well, until the color was lemony, the color of the yellow in her dress. She added flour to the beaten eggs, the amount depending on the eggs, as Nikla never used measuring cups. When the eggs and the flour clumped into a ball and was no longer tacky to the touch, Nikla patted the ball flat and, placing the disk on the floured towel, she picked up her rolling pin.
Nikla rolled the dough thin, into a circle. Then she spread the fruit over the surface of the dough, followed by what must have been a cup of chopped nuts. She dotted the entire surface with butter, and followed that with a sprinkling of sugar and of cinnamon.
And then Nikla rolled her strudio. Lifting the edge of the floured towel, Nikla gave the towel a quick tug and an upward jerk and the edge of the dough closest to her flipped over. Another tug and jerk of the towel, and then another, and the fruit covered dough turned upon itself again and again until one layer, then a second layer, and then a third layer of the dough formed a roll. The rolling is the mystery of the creation of what would be a stunning strudio.
All that was left now was to spread butter on the strudio and to bake her pastry creation in a medium oven, a temperature Nikla would judge by her senses - which we would describe as 350 degrees. When the strudio was lightly browned, after an hour in the oven, Nikla's dessert was ready for her Christmas table the following day.
Today 11-year-old Marija is 84, and her mother's strudio remains a favorite memory of childhood. She remembers Nikla's dough, when baked, had a crunchy texture, almost like noodle dough. As an adult, grown-up Marie baked her own version of strudio for her children, adding shortening to Nikla's recipe to make the crust more like pie dough. In this way the tradition of Nikla's Christmas strudio was passed to another generation.
The story about making Christmas strudio was to have ended here. You were to have scrolled down to a photo of a stunning strudio, a long, well-turned roll of fruit-filled pastry, browned to perfection, with a slice on a plate to show the symmetry of the spiral of pastry and fruit. With that in mind, my research plan for the story included baking both a strudel and a strudio. As it turns out, writing Marie's story about her mother's strudio was a lesson not to count my strudio before they are baked.
The first thing I learned in this culinary research is that strudio and strudel are not the same thing at all. Although both appear as rolled pastry, the strudel has a fruit-filled center with layers of pastry on the outside. In a strudio, the fruit is dispersed throughout the layers of pastry. In publishing Nikla's recipe, the St. Mary's Catholic Altar Society cookbook functionally translated "strudio" as "fruit roll".
You probably won't find the word "strudio" in a Croatian cookbook; Marie and I didn't. Still, Nikla was not the only Croatian woman to bake strudio. The Lales, another Croatian family with Govert ties, also celebrated special occasions with strudio. Whether the word originated in a community in Croatia or whether it originated in Govert, whether the inspiration was that of Nikla Kulisich or Pauline Lale, whether the word was recorded by history as strudio because of Nikla's Croatian accent or Marie's American ears, "strudio" is the word that survived.
Strudio and strudel are not the same, but similarities do exist. The same floured towel technique is used for rolling both a strudio and a strudel. The filling is the same. But for slicing the rolled pastry, not even Mitch would be able to tell the difference because, straight out of the oven, a strudio and a strudel appear identical. Had I not dipped my hands in the flour like Nikla did, had I not used the floured cloth to coax the dough into roll, I might have missed the probable answer to the origin of the word "strudio". Maybe the word really is the invention of immigrants. Not a strudel, but something like a strudel, so a strudio. Or, as my husband said, having cheerfully assumed responsibility as taste tester, "strudel-ish".
My research strudel turned out quite well. Nicely shaped, golden brown, an enviable result, perhaps beginner's luck. The appearance of my research strudio was, well, not so nice, certainly not stunning like Nikla's strudio. Russ, as official taste tester, reported to me, "I agree the strudio is not as pretty as the strudel, but the flavor is much better". I was surprised. And my taste tester continued sampling the strudio.
Like Russ, Mitch would have happily eaten the strudio I baked but, without a picture of a stunning strudio, my preconceived ending to the story fell into doubt. I could not in good conscience pass off a picture of the successful strudel as strudio. This was, after all, a story about strudio. So I did what any author with a rigid plan would have done: I considered making a second strudio.
And then the muse who is inside of each of us, if only we listen, nudged me. And, for once, I listened. Sometimes we have to be reminded that things are not always what they appear to be. The image of the strudio I had labored over so hopefully was not one I was willing to commit to the public eye, but the flavor was better than that of the more attractive strudel cousin. The strudio was not what it appeared to be. First, it wasn't a strudel at all and, second, my sad little strudio was a happy mash of pie dough and fruit. My muse smiled and went back to sleep.
Things are not always what they appear to be. And, just as my muse repeated to me ... things are not always what they appear to be.
Maybe this story isn't what it appears to be.
Consider this. Applying an economic standard, Nikla and Mitch appear to be poor.
But were they poor? Things are not always what they appear to be.
Maybe this story is not about strudio after all. Maybe this is a story about Nikla and Mitch.
MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM GOVERT, SOUTH DAKOTA!
This story is dedicated to Marie's great-grandchildren.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to Marie Kulisich for her memories.
The photograph in this blog post is used with the permission of Marie Kulisich. In the back row are John, Ann, and Tony. In the front are Marie, Mitch and Nikla.
Gratitude is owed to Robert Jerin, who has been kind to entertain my questions on all things Slavic since 2010. Robert has long been associated with the Croatian Heritage Museum in Cleveland, Ohio, and is the moderator of the Croatian Heritage and Genealogy page on Facebook. Robert was not familiar with a Croatian word like "strudio". Robert advised that the Croatian word for strudel is strudla (pronounced like shroodlah). He suggested the possibility that "strudio" may derive from dialect or family tradition.
The natural concerns of a mother for her sons following December 7, 1941 were to become very real for Nikla. The son she and Mitch named John Govert Kulisich joined the Marine Corp in 1942. John served as a Corsair pilot, and remained in the Marine Corps until he retired as a Master Sergeant in 1962. Tony (formally named Anton after his uncle) was deferred from service in World War II because his labor was necessary to maintain ranch operations.
Marie tells me that wood produces a faster, hotter fire. Wood was preferred in the kitchen for cooking and baking. The stove in the second room was fired with coal. Coal was good for banking the fire at night as the coal did not burn as fast. Paul Ellis operated a coal mine near the Slim Buttes, and he provided coal to most of the Govert community. The wood the Kulisich family burned in the cook stove came from the Slim Buttes, with Mitch and his sons collecting the wood in the fall. If wood were ever in short supply, a Govert family would use whatever fuel was available. Nikla might have baked her strudio in an oven fired by coal this Christmas Eve in 1941.
The cookbook published by the St. Mary's Catholic Altar Society in Newell, South Dakota, is undated, but Marie believes publication preceded 1973.]
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Get Together, Pull Together, Stick Together (Part I)
Thirty-nine people paid two-bits apiece to become a member of the Govert, South Dakota, Parent Teacher Association (P.T.A.). Charles Laflin, the editor of the Govert Advance, would mark this bright enthusiasm as an unqualified success for the rural crossroads town of Govert. Mr. Laflin was not ready to admit the town of Govert, his town, the town into which he invested every watt of his own enthusiasm, was already beyond the glory days as a crossroads town, Depression or no Depression. The year was 1935. The month was February.
To learn of a thriving P.T.A. flourishing here within reach of the shadow of the Slim Buttes might have surprised the census taker for Govert township in 1930, when he wrote names on only 40 of the 50 lines of a single page of the official government census form. Govert township had 11 households in 1930. By 1935 only four of those families would have children of school age. But the census taker was a woman, June Laflin Knight, Charles Laflin's sister, and June understood the heart of Govert.
Just how important could the P.T.A. have been in Govert, South Dakota, that rural community in southeast Harding County? Thirty-nine adults supporting a mere handful of children is an eye-popping example of civic involvement by a small rural community. With the amusing entertainments and the excellent food, the P.T.A. served the important social function of drawing the community together in cooperative spirit. If the Govert P.T.A. had a motto, the message could have been "get together, pull together, stick together".
How could you not look forward to a P.T.A. night when laughter and friendly voices drifted from the schoolhouse to cover the prairie? The minutes prepared by P.T.A. secretary, Mrs. Gee, will speak for her, for the 39 members of the P.T.A., and for every other hanger-on who attended the meeting on February 22, 1935. The minutes were printed in the Govert Advance on 14 March 1935, published 79 years ago. Mrs. Gee wrote:
"The P.T.A. met in regular session Feb. 22nd.
"Reversing the usual order of procedure, the Program Committee took immediate charge and rendered a very entertaining, original and jolly program.
"Following the program, the business was opened by the Pres., who gave the object of the P.T.A. organization. The following were added to membership: Mrs. C.D. Calkins, Gust Toble, Bert Ellis, Howard Nichols. This makes a total of 39 members. Minutes were read by Sec'y.
"Nominations for committee then in order. Motion made by Adelaide Calkins, seconded by Mrs. Scofield that Mrs. W.B. Gee act as chairman of next program committee. Motion made by Mrs. Gee, seconded by Lillian Hafner that Margaret Wammen act on committee. Motion made by Dale Horton, seconded by Herb Scofield that Gust Toble act on committee. Nominations were then closed.
"John Donohue, Mr. Scofield and Lillian [Hafner] were nominated to act on supper committee. Nominations were then closed.
"Motion made by Mrs. Gee, seconded by Adelaide Calkins, that a program committee be elected for the April program, thus giving them ample time to make their arrangements. The following were elected on the committee of three. Lillian Hafner, chairman, Mrs. Joe Grandpre, Mrs. Herb Scofield.
"Mrs. Gee then reported that the March committee had been very fortunate in making arrangements with Prof. Taft of Newell High school to give a talk on Educational subject. He plans to be accompanied by members of his male quartet.
"The meeting then adjourned and the supper committee took charge and served a bona fide oyster supper to a large crowd. [signed] Mrs. W.B. Gee, Sec'y
The program Mrs. Gee mentioned in her minutes turned out to be, quite frankly, a product of creative genius. From Charles Laflin, the editor of the Govert Advance, we learn, "The get together, pull together, stick together spirit was evidenced by the response of each and everyone called upon in a novel, impromptu program put on by the entertainment committee, Miss Adelaide Calkins, Mrs. Wesley Horton and Frederic Laflin."
A "novel, impromptu program" ... now that is a P.T.A. program with promise, isn't it? The program was, without a doubt, "novel", but the "impromptu" part took buckets and buckets of planning and imagination. As evidence of an evening of unparalleled entertainment, please note the membership will increase by 10 to 49 by the March 1935 meeting of the P.T.A. The next time we meet here on the blog, we will look at February's "novel, impromptu program". For now, based on the coverage in the Govert Advance, we can gauge the cast of characters for the February 1935 P.T.A. meeting and program.
Mollie Brucker Calkins, age 58, wife of Clifford Delbert Calkins; in 1929 C.D. and Mollie Calkins traded Govert Van der Boom and Emma Vogt Van der Boom the Calkins house in Spearfish for the Govert store and residence.
Adelaide Christina Calkins, age 36, current schoolmarm, daughter of C.D. and Mollie Calkins; formerly married to "Odd Socks" Esler, a man said to be a small-time cattle rustler; she was well-loved by the children she taught.
John Donohue, age 25, single, rancher, brother to William.
William Donohue, age 20, single, rancher, brother to John.
Bert Ellis, age 50, rancher; Bert and his wife, Lottie, had no children but were loved by every child they ever met; they lived in the township west of Govert township.
Lydia Vogt Gee, age 48, homesteader in her own right in Meade County in her youth, now wife to Walter Benson Gee, mother to Melvin Gee and Russell Gee, who earlier attended Govert School; former schoolteacher, community organizer; sister to Emma Vogt VanderBoom, wife of Govert Van der Boom, founder of Govert.
Joseph Leo Grandpre, age 41, rancher, and his wife, Amanda Bekken Grandpre, age 44, who was born in Norway.
Delore Grandpre, age 16, son of Joseph and Amanda Grandpre.
Lilian Gudmunson Hafner, age 28, former schoolmarm, married to George Hafner, who was the son of Govert pioneers.
Dorothy Horton, age 9, and her brother, Rayford Horton, age 6, children of John Raymond Horton and Alva Oline Bekken Horton, sister of Amanda Bekken Grandpre.
Evelyn Marie Horton, age 12, and her brother, Dale Vernon Horton, age 10, children of Ida Wendt Horton, age 33, and Wesley Horton, age 42, brother of John Raymond Horton.
Waldon Jerome Jorgenson, age 15, raised by his Uncle Gust I. Jorgenson and Aunt Bessie Eugenia Holt Jorgenson, on the Jorgenson ranch.
John Govert Kulisich, age 13, named after the town where he was born, and his brother, Anton M. Kulisich, age 15, children of Mitchell "Mitch" Kulisich and Nikla Mijas Kulisich; Mitch and Nikla were born in what is now Croatia and were Govert pioneers.
Charles Eugene Laflin, age 61, owner, publisher, editor and distributor of the Govert Advance, president of the P.T.A., unofficial mayor of Govert, South Dakota; lived in the township to the north of Govert township; a Govert pioneer.
Frederic Orr Laflin, age 22, single, farmhand, son of Charles Laflin and Mary Zee Campbell Laflin; lived in the township to the north of Govert township.
William A. "Billy" Lale, age 8, and his sister, Elsie Lale, age 13, children of Nick Lale and Pauline Guka Lale. Nick and Pauline were born in what is now Croatia and were Govert pioneers; Nick Lale is a cousin to Mitch Kulisich.
Walden C. Lemm, age 24, single, rancher.
Howard Nichols, a man of singular mystery.
Herbert Leroy Scofield, age 38, and his wife, Signey Adela Bekken, age 32, sister of Alva Oline Bekken Horton and Amanda Bekken Grandpre.
Gustave Herman Toble, age 57, who immigrated from Krummenflies, Flatow, West Prussia, as a child; rancher, coal miner, and widower, uncle of Lydia Vogt Gee and Emma Vogt Van der Boom.
Margaret Wammen, age 22, single, schoolmarm at the Govert School beginning September 1935.
Who else beyond those mentioned in the Govert Advance would squeeze into the schoolhouse that night in February 1935 ... brothers and sisters, parents, bachelors and spinsters, neighbors old and young, from Govert township and from beyond the township boundaries. Consider this ... if Anton and John Kulisich were part of the P.T.A. program, their mother and father and little sister, Marie, who would start school in September 1936 with Margaret Wammen as her teacher, would have been there, too. Little Marie Kulisich would not have missed a P.T.A. meeting for a world of presents.
If these Goverites have names you've seen before, you can influence the direction of my next posting. Leave a comment or write to me at thruprairiegrass@gmail.com.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Based on an article published in the Govert Advance, March 14, 1935, entitled "P.T.A."]
To learn of a thriving P.T.A. flourishing here within reach of the shadow of the Slim Buttes might have surprised the census taker for Govert township in 1930, when he wrote names on only 40 of the 50 lines of a single page of the official government census form. Govert township had 11 households in 1930. By 1935 only four of those families would have children of school age. But the census taker was a woman, June Laflin Knight, Charles Laflin's sister, and June understood the heart of Govert.
Just how important could the P.T.A. have been in Govert, South Dakota, that rural community in southeast Harding County? Thirty-nine adults supporting a mere handful of children is an eye-popping example of civic involvement by a small rural community. With the amusing entertainments and the excellent food, the P.T.A. served the important social function of drawing the community together in cooperative spirit. If the Govert P.T.A. had a motto, the message could have been "get together, pull together, stick together".
How could you not look forward to a P.T.A. night when laughter and friendly voices drifted from the schoolhouse to cover the prairie? The minutes prepared by P.T.A. secretary, Mrs. Gee, will speak for her, for the 39 members of the P.T.A., and for every other hanger-on who attended the meeting on February 22, 1935. The minutes were printed in the Govert Advance on 14 March 1935, published 79 years ago. Mrs. Gee wrote:
"The P.T.A. met in regular session Feb. 22nd.
"Reversing the usual order of procedure, the Program Committee took immediate charge and rendered a very entertaining, original and jolly program.
"Following the program, the business was opened by the Pres., who gave the object of the P.T.A. organization. The following were added to membership: Mrs. C.D. Calkins, Gust Toble, Bert Ellis, Howard Nichols. This makes a total of 39 members. Minutes were read by Sec'y.
"Nominations for committee then in order. Motion made by Adelaide Calkins, seconded by Mrs. Scofield that Mrs. W.B. Gee act as chairman of next program committee. Motion made by Mrs. Gee, seconded by Lillian Hafner that Margaret Wammen act on committee. Motion made by Dale Horton, seconded by Herb Scofield that Gust Toble act on committee. Nominations were then closed.
"John Donohue, Mr. Scofield and Lillian [Hafner] were nominated to act on supper committee. Nominations were then closed.
"Motion made by Mrs. Gee, seconded by Adelaide Calkins, that a program committee be elected for the April program, thus giving them ample time to make their arrangements. The following were elected on the committee of three. Lillian Hafner, chairman, Mrs. Joe Grandpre, Mrs. Herb Scofield.
"Mrs. Gee then reported that the March committee had been very fortunate in making arrangements with Prof. Taft of Newell High school to give a talk on Educational subject. He plans to be accompanied by members of his male quartet.
"The meeting then adjourned and the supper committee took charge and served a bona fide oyster supper to a large crowd. [signed] Mrs. W.B. Gee, Sec'y
The program Mrs. Gee mentioned in her minutes turned out to be, quite frankly, a product of creative genius. From Charles Laflin, the editor of the Govert Advance, we learn, "The get together, pull together, stick together spirit was evidenced by the response of each and everyone called upon in a novel, impromptu program put on by the entertainment committee, Miss Adelaide Calkins, Mrs. Wesley Horton and Frederic Laflin."
A "novel, impromptu program" ... now that is a P.T.A. program with promise, isn't it? The program was, without a doubt, "novel", but the "impromptu" part took buckets and buckets of planning and imagination. As evidence of an evening of unparalleled entertainment, please note the membership will increase by 10 to 49 by the March 1935 meeting of the P.T.A. The next time we meet here on the blog, we will look at February's "novel, impromptu program". For now, based on the coverage in the Govert Advance, we can gauge the cast of characters for the February 1935 P.T.A. meeting and program.
Mollie Brucker Calkins, age 58, wife of Clifford Delbert Calkins; in 1929 C.D. and Mollie Calkins traded Govert Van der Boom and Emma Vogt Van der Boom the Calkins house in Spearfish for the Govert store and residence.
Adelaide Christina Calkins, age 36, current schoolmarm, daughter of C.D. and Mollie Calkins; formerly married to "Odd Socks" Esler, a man said to be a small-time cattle rustler; she was well-loved by the children she taught.
John Donohue, age 25, single, rancher, brother to William.
William Donohue, age 20, single, rancher, brother to John.
Bert Ellis, age 50, rancher; Bert and his wife, Lottie, had no children but were loved by every child they ever met; they lived in the township west of Govert township.
Lydia Vogt Gee, age 48, homesteader in her own right in Meade County in her youth, now wife to Walter Benson Gee, mother to Melvin Gee and Russell Gee, who earlier attended Govert School; former schoolteacher, community organizer; sister to Emma Vogt VanderBoom, wife of Govert Van der Boom, founder of Govert.
Joseph Leo Grandpre, age 41, rancher, and his wife, Amanda Bekken Grandpre, age 44, who was born in Norway.
Delore Grandpre, age 16, son of Joseph and Amanda Grandpre.
Lilian Gudmunson Hafner, age 28, former schoolmarm, married to George Hafner, who was the son of Govert pioneers.
Dorothy Horton, age 9, and her brother, Rayford Horton, age 6, children of John Raymond Horton and Alva Oline Bekken Horton, sister of Amanda Bekken Grandpre.
Evelyn Marie Horton, age 12, and her brother, Dale Vernon Horton, age 10, children of Ida Wendt Horton, age 33, and Wesley Horton, age 42, brother of John Raymond Horton.
Waldon Jerome Jorgenson, age 15, raised by his Uncle Gust I. Jorgenson and Aunt Bessie Eugenia Holt Jorgenson, on the Jorgenson ranch.
John Govert Kulisich, age 13, named after the town where he was born, and his brother, Anton M. Kulisich, age 15, children of Mitchell "Mitch" Kulisich and Nikla Mijas Kulisich; Mitch and Nikla were born in what is now Croatia and were Govert pioneers.
Charles Eugene Laflin, age 61, owner, publisher, editor and distributor of the Govert Advance, president of the P.T.A., unofficial mayor of Govert, South Dakota; lived in the township to the north of Govert township; a Govert pioneer.
Frederic Orr Laflin, age 22, single, farmhand, son of Charles Laflin and Mary Zee Campbell Laflin; lived in the township to the north of Govert township.
William A. "Billy" Lale, age 8, and his sister, Elsie Lale, age 13, children of Nick Lale and Pauline Guka Lale. Nick and Pauline were born in what is now Croatia and were Govert pioneers; Nick Lale is a cousin to Mitch Kulisich.
Walden C. Lemm, age 24, single, rancher.
Howard Nichols, a man of singular mystery.
Herbert Leroy Scofield, age 38, and his wife, Signey Adela Bekken, age 32, sister of Alva Oline Bekken Horton and Amanda Bekken Grandpre.
Gustave Herman Toble, age 57, who immigrated from Krummenflies, Flatow, West Prussia, as a child; rancher, coal miner, and widower, uncle of Lydia Vogt Gee and Emma Vogt Van der Boom.
Margaret Wammen, age 22, single, schoolmarm at the Govert School beginning September 1935.
Who else beyond those mentioned in the Govert Advance would squeeze into the schoolhouse that night in February 1935 ... brothers and sisters, parents, bachelors and spinsters, neighbors old and young, from Govert township and from beyond the township boundaries. Consider this ... if Anton and John Kulisich were part of the P.T.A. program, their mother and father and little sister, Marie, who would start school in September 1936 with Margaret Wammen as her teacher, would have been there, too. Little Marie Kulisich would not have missed a P.T.A. meeting for a world of presents.
If these Goverites have names you've seen before, you can influence the direction of my next posting. Leave a comment or write to me at thruprairiegrass@gmail.com.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Based on an article published in the Govert Advance, March 14, 1935, entitled "P.T.A."]
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Fox and Geese ... and Children ... Oh My!
No winter passes in the North Country of South Dakota without the bite of bitter cold. This very day of February the temperature in Buffalo, South Dakota, may rise as high as 5 degrees. Yesterday the high was -3 and last night the temperature fell into the double digits below zero. Harding County winters were no different back when Govert School was in session to teach the children of Govert township.
The memory of Govert as a town includes the memory of wood frame houses with little or no insulation, miserably warmed by a wood or coal burning stove. Goverites had no experience with layers of insulation in their attics measured in inches, with high efficiency gas or electric furnaces, with double paned windows. How cold was it? Cold enough for the pail of water in the kitchen to freeze during the night. Yes, that cold.
But what does this have to do with fox and geese and children? For this story we need a winter scene, so play along.
During the years the Govert community stood on the prairie ... during the 1910's, the 1920's, the 1930's, and into the 1940's ... the only warm place in the house on a cold day was the stove. The stove came in many shapes, and your house might have only one ... the cook stove ... but picture in your mind a pot-bellied stove. From watching their parents, children learned to face the stove to warm their hands and their front side, and then to turn around to warm their back side. Many of the stoves had a foot rail so you could pull up your chair and prop your feet on the stove rail. In winter, life in the North Country played out within the effective radius of the stove. Yes, that cold.
And now on to the fox and geese and children.
A favorite winter game for Govert school children was Fox and Geese, a game of tag. Other agreeable versions of tag could be played before the first snow and after the last snow, but Fox and Geese required a good snowfall. Sitting at their desks in the one room Govert school house, with that first snow calling them by name, the children grew restless for recess, eager to stomp out a new playing field. They fidgeted and bit their lips, made faces, looked around and rocked in their chairs, making scratching and thumping noises.
By the time the children thought they could restrain themselves no longer, the teacher knew their minds were beyond her reach and she called recess. If it was the year Miss Blomberg was the teacher, the children who jumped from their desks were James Donohue, Mercedes Hafner, Marie Kulisich, Billy Lale, Albert Springer, Edwin Springer, Roland Springer, Alice Mae West, Evaline West, and Nona Marie Wald.
For whatever reason of childhood, not even the most unbearable of cold winter days could get in the way of children intent on recess. The children piled into the cloakroom and bundled up, layering on sweaters, coats, mufflers, mittens, snowsuits ... whatever they had taken off and hung on the hooks when arriving at school that morning. They early learned to pull on their snow boots before adding on the last layers of clothing, or they would never be able to bend over and reach their feet.
Scrambling outside to their favorite play area, the children then stomped and shuffled through the snow, one behind the other, like a parade following in the same path. First, the children stomped a path making a circle, a large circle several feet in diameter. Then they stomped straight paths across the circle like a wagon wheel, one rim to the other. The hub of the wheel was stomped flat, too. Shuffle and stomp. Shuffle and stomp.
If you've never seen the wheel of a horse drawn wagon, you might not be able to imagine how the spokes radiate from the hub in the middle to the rim on the outside edge. In that case, think of how a pie is cut, from one edge of the circular pan to the other. These Govert children knew their wheels and they knew their pies, and they knew how to easily entertain themselves.
Entertain themselves they did. Miss Blomberg was sure to add certainty to any indecision over who would be the fox. The fox, of course, was "it" in both nature and on the playground. Maybe James Donohue was the fox. He was one of the older boys that year. Or maybe Marie Kulisich, or one of the West girls was the fox this time. Everyone took a turn at being "it". No one seemed to mind.
The fox took a place in the hub of the wheel while the remaining players, who were the geese, spread out along the circular path, as far away from the fox as they could get. And then the wily fox leapt from the center of the circle and chased the geese. The geese scattered around the circular path and up and down the straight paths. Once the chase was on, the children could not leave the perimeter of the outer circle.
The playground purist might insist that the fox could only follow the straight lines, while the geese could seek escape along any path. But, as with any playground game, you might make your own rules. Who really cares who follows which path when all you want is a good chase and 15 minutes of shrieking excitement. The purist would tell us the goal of the game was for the fox to tag a goose, who then became the hunter instead of the hunted. Miss Blomberg might confide the goal was to consume the excess energy of children who would otherwise wiggle in their chairs during lessons.
These children of Govert, played hard during recess. They ran hard, jumped hard, laughed hard, and the excitement and activity warmed them better than any stove. Recess ended with rosy cheeks, glowing eyes, and numb fingers. Most children are reluctant to give up their freedom for the classroom once again, but our future mothers and fathers, and future ranchers, future teachers, social workers, and artists returned to the cloakroom of their one room schoolhouse, and once again hung their coats and snowsuits on hooks.
Now wait for it ... wait for it ...
Not much time passed before the first child walked into the narrow circle of heat surrounding the pot bellied stove in the schoolhouse. No one seems to mind. Miss Blomberg was cold, too, and didn't discourage the children from leaving their seats and warming themselves at the stove. Another child takes a turn at the stove, and then another. The children warm their hands facing the stove, and then turn around to warm their back side.
What is it about recess that makes children invincible as against the cold?
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to the fox and geese of long ago Govert, South Dakota, Marie Kulisich and Alice Mae and Evaline West.]
The memory of Govert as a town includes the memory of wood frame houses with little or no insulation, miserably warmed by a wood or coal burning stove. Goverites had no experience with layers of insulation in their attics measured in inches, with high efficiency gas or electric furnaces, with double paned windows. How cold was it? Cold enough for the pail of water in the kitchen to freeze during the night. Yes, that cold.
But what does this have to do with fox and geese and children? For this story we need a winter scene, so play along.
During the years the Govert community stood on the prairie ... during the 1910's, the 1920's, the 1930's, and into the 1940's ... the only warm place in the house on a cold day was the stove. The stove came in many shapes, and your house might have only one ... the cook stove ... but picture in your mind a pot-bellied stove. From watching their parents, children learned to face the stove to warm their hands and their front side, and then to turn around to warm their back side. Many of the stoves had a foot rail so you could pull up your chair and prop your feet on the stove rail. In winter, life in the North Country played out within the effective radius of the stove. Yes, that cold.
And now on to the fox and geese and children.
A favorite winter game for Govert school children was Fox and Geese, a game of tag. Other agreeable versions of tag could be played before the first snow and after the last snow, but Fox and Geese required a good snowfall. Sitting at their desks in the one room Govert school house, with that first snow calling them by name, the children grew restless for recess, eager to stomp out a new playing field. They fidgeted and bit their lips, made faces, looked around and rocked in their chairs, making scratching and thumping noises.
By the time the children thought they could restrain themselves no longer, the teacher knew their minds were beyond her reach and she called recess. If it was the year Miss Blomberg was the teacher, the children who jumped from their desks were James Donohue, Mercedes Hafner, Marie Kulisich, Billy Lale, Albert Springer, Edwin Springer, Roland Springer, Alice Mae West, Evaline West, and Nona Marie Wald.
For whatever reason of childhood, not even the most unbearable of cold winter days could get in the way of children intent on recess. The children piled into the cloakroom and bundled up, layering on sweaters, coats, mufflers, mittens, snowsuits ... whatever they had taken off and hung on the hooks when arriving at school that morning. They early learned to pull on their snow boots before adding on the last layers of clothing, or they would never be able to bend over and reach their feet.
Scrambling outside to their favorite play area, the children then stomped and shuffled through the snow, one behind the other, like a parade following in the same path. First, the children stomped a path making a circle, a large circle several feet in diameter. Then they stomped straight paths across the circle like a wagon wheel, one rim to the other. The hub of the wheel was stomped flat, too. Shuffle and stomp. Shuffle and stomp.
If you've never seen the wheel of a horse drawn wagon, you might not be able to imagine how the spokes radiate from the hub in the middle to the rim on the outside edge. In that case, think of how a pie is cut, from one edge of the circular pan to the other. These Govert children knew their wheels and they knew their pies, and they knew how to easily entertain themselves.
Entertain themselves they did. Miss Blomberg was sure to add certainty to any indecision over who would be the fox. The fox, of course, was "it" in both nature and on the playground. Maybe James Donohue was the fox. He was one of the older boys that year. Or maybe Marie Kulisich, or one of the West girls was the fox this time. Everyone took a turn at being "it". No one seemed to mind.
The fox took a place in the hub of the wheel while the remaining players, who were the geese, spread out along the circular path, as far away from the fox as they could get. And then the wily fox leapt from the center of the circle and chased the geese. The geese scattered around the circular path and up and down the straight paths. Once the chase was on, the children could not leave the perimeter of the outer circle.
The playground purist might insist that the fox could only follow the straight lines, while the geese could seek escape along any path. But, as with any playground game, you might make your own rules. Who really cares who follows which path when all you want is a good chase and 15 minutes of shrieking excitement. The purist would tell us the goal of the game was for the fox to tag a goose, who then became the hunter instead of the hunted. Miss Blomberg might confide the goal was to consume the excess energy of children who would otherwise wiggle in their chairs during lessons.
These children of Govert, played hard during recess. They ran hard, jumped hard, laughed hard, and the excitement and activity warmed them better than any stove. Recess ended with rosy cheeks, glowing eyes, and numb fingers. Most children are reluctant to give up their freedom for the classroom once again, but our future mothers and fathers, and future ranchers, future teachers, social workers, and artists returned to the cloakroom of their one room schoolhouse, and once again hung their coats and snowsuits on hooks.
Now wait for it ... wait for it ...
Not much time passed before the first child walked into the narrow circle of heat surrounding the pot bellied stove in the schoolhouse. No one seems to mind. Miss Blomberg was cold, too, and didn't discourage the children from leaving their seats and warming themselves at the stove. Another child takes a turn at the stove, and then another. The children warm their hands facing the stove, and then turn around to warm their back side.
What is it about recess that makes children invincible as against the cold?
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to the fox and geese of long ago Govert, South Dakota, Marie Kulisich and Alice Mae and Evaline West.]
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Merry Christmas from the Govert, South Dakota, P.T.A.!
"Merry Christmas!" "Hiya, neighbor! Merry Christmas!" "Good evening and Merry Christmas!" "Hey! Merry Christmas!" "Merry Christmas to you, too!"
Voices from every direction called out cheery greetings as Goverites gathered at the schoolhouse for the Govert, South Dakota, P.T.A. Christmas Program. Every man, every woman, and every child, glowing shiny clean and rosy from excitement, was carefully dressed for the holiday celebration. They were ready for the best, the biggest, the most enthusiastic community gathering of the entire year.
Inside the schoolhouse, the children's desks had been pushed to the fringe of the room and rows of wooden benches were lined up facing the blackboard in front. In the swelling anticipation, an evergreen tree decorated with tinsel and colored balls, standing awkwardly to the side of the blackboard, seemed bigger, brighter, and more confident than perhaps it really was. Nine-year-old Marie Kulisich thought this tree, brought in from the Slim Buttes, was the most beautiful Christmas tree she had ever seen.
Darkness closed in on the schoolhouse and, although the weather grew only colder and colder as the evening progressed into night, the coal stove burned hot. Gasoline lanterns, carried in by the Govert neighbors, radiated light and a little heat, brightening the schoolroom. With all the neighbors crowded into the single room of the 19' by 27' schoolhouse, the air became warm, almost steamy.
The desk of the Govert country school teacher, Alma Eleanor (Cox) Schuck, the widow of Walter Benjamin Schuck these last 14 years and more, was pushed to the side of where the stage now sat in front of the benches, on the side opposite from the decorated evergreen tree. Every inch of Mrs. Schuck's desk was obscured by plates holding cakes and cookies, and more plates holding sandwiches piled so high as to threaten to tumble. And coffee. The P.T.A. always served coffee, strong and hot.
With no admission fee, the P.T.A. Christmas Program was the perfect holiday activity for rural Harding County families during the Great Depression. What should Goverites find in the Govert schoolhouse that night in December but a glamorous Christmas tree, hours of laughter and heartfelt entertainment, companionable fellowship with neighbors, and sugary treats for everyone. Who could ask for more happiness than the oh-so-pleasant here-and-now, in that interlude before leaving this bright place to find their way home in the dark and cold of the earliest morning hours?
Like all the years preceding, the P.T.A. Christmas Program for 1939 was an acclaimed hit among Goverites and all the farming and ranching families within reach of the Govert schoolhouse. The performers that year were Mercedes Hafner (2d grade), Marie Kulisich (4th grade), Leroy Scofield (2d grade), Roland Springer (1st grade) and Edwin Springer (2d grade), and Alice Mae West (4th grade) and Evaline West (6th grade). Twelve-year-old Billy Lale was the oldest student at Govert School that year; he was in the 7th grade. Billy joined in the songs and acted in the plays with the other students.
Eager for holiday excitement, the grade school students, their parents, brothers and sisters, and all of their neighbors, including the old bachelors in the township, began the program singing ... quite loudly ... "Joy to the World". The children ended their program much, much later, tired and happy, singing "The Tree That Blooms at Christmas." Between these two songs were plays, readings, recitations, a dialog, and more holiday musical favorites.
By the time the Govert schoolchildren sang the Christmas lullaby, Dear Little Stranger, little brothers and sisters were snuggling in their parents' laps, with mommy's or daddy's protective arms around them. The adults were smiling nostalgically, remembering their happiest Christmas times. Waves of light and sound echoed between the stage and the densely seated benches. These are the voices of children you would have heard: Dear Little Stranger.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Based on an article in the Govert Advance, December 28, 1939; with gratitude to Marie Kulisich for assisting with details; Dear Little Stranger, Charles H. Gabriel, 1900; The Tree That Blooms at Christmas, Author Unknown, sung to "Let the Lower Lights Be Burning", Philip P. Bliss, 1871]
Voices from every direction called out cheery greetings as Goverites gathered at the schoolhouse for the Govert, South Dakota, P.T.A. Christmas Program. Every man, every woman, and every child, glowing shiny clean and rosy from excitement, was carefully dressed for the holiday celebration. They were ready for the best, the biggest, the most enthusiastic community gathering of the entire year.
Inside the schoolhouse, the children's desks had been pushed to the fringe of the room and rows of wooden benches were lined up facing the blackboard in front. In the swelling anticipation, an evergreen tree decorated with tinsel and colored balls, standing awkwardly to the side of the blackboard, seemed bigger, brighter, and more confident than perhaps it really was. Nine-year-old Marie Kulisich thought this tree, brought in from the Slim Buttes, was the most beautiful Christmas tree she had ever seen.
Darkness closed in on the schoolhouse and, although the weather grew only colder and colder as the evening progressed into night, the coal stove burned hot. Gasoline lanterns, carried in by the Govert neighbors, radiated light and a little heat, brightening the schoolroom. With all the neighbors crowded into the single room of the 19' by 27' schoolhouse, the air became warm, almost steamy.
The desk of the Govert country school teacher, Alma Eleanor (Cox) Schuck, the widow of Walter Benjamin Schuck these last 14 years and more, was pushed to the side of where the stage now sat in front of the benches, on the side opposite from the decorated evergreen tree. Every inch of Mrs. Schuck's desk was obscured by plates holding cakes and cookies, and more plates holding sandwiches piled so high as to threaten to tumble. And coffee. The P.T.A. always served coffee, strong and hot.
With no admission fee, the P.T.A. Christmas Program was the perfect holiday activity for rural Harding County families during the Great Depression. What should Goverites find in the Govert schoolhouse that night in December but a glamorous Christmas tree, hours of laughter and heartfelt entertainment, companionable fellowship with neighbors, and sugary treats for everyone. Who could ask for more happiness than the oh-so-pleasant here-and-now, in that interlude before leaving this bright place to find their way home in the dark and cold of the earliest morning hours?
Like all the years preceding, the P.T.A. Christmas Program for 1939 was an acclaimed hit among Goverites and all the farming and ranching families within reach of the Govert schoolhouse. The performers that year were Mercedes Hafner (2d grade), Marie Kulisich (4th grade), Leroy Scofield (2d grade), Roland Springer (1st grade) and Edwin Springer (2d grade), and Alice Mae West (4th grade) and Evaline West (6th grade). Twelve-year-old Billy Lale was the oldest student at Govert School that year; he was in the 7th grade. Billy joined in the songs and acted in the plays with the other students.
Eager for holiday excitement, the grade school students, their parents, brothers and sisters, and all of their neighbors, including the old bachelors in the township, began the program singing ... quite loudly ... "Joy to the World". The children ended their program much, much later, tired and happy, singing "The Tree That Blooms at Christmas." Between these two songs were plays, readings, recitations, a dialog, and more holiday musical favorites.
P.T.A. PROGRAM
Joy to the World ...... Song by All
Silent Night ...... Song by Govert School
Just a Hint ...... Reading by Alice Mae West
Our Baby ...... Recitation by Edwin Springer
One Drawback ...... Recitation by Roland Springer
It Came Upon the Midnight Clear ...... Song by Govert School
Tangled Telephone ...... Play by Govert School
Poor Dolly ...... Recitation by Mercedes Hafner
Christmas at Grandma’s ...... Recitation by Leroy Scofield
Put a Candle in the Window ...... Song by Govert School
Christmas Angels ...... Reading by Evaline West
Nurse! Nurse! ...... Dialog by Alice Mae West and Marie Kulisich
A Wise Christmas Gift ...... Recitation by Edwin Springer
Dear Little Stranger ...... Song by Govert School
Christmas Strategy ...... Play by Govert School
Hark the Herald Angels Sing ...... Song by All
The Tree That Blooms at Christmas ...... Song by Govert School
By the time the Govert schoolchildren sang the Christmas lullaby, Dear Little Stranger, little brothers and sisters were snuggling in their parents' laps, with mommy's or daddy's protective arms around them. The adults were smiling nostalgically, remembering their happiest Christmas times. Waves of light and sound echoed between the stage and the densely seated benches. These are the voices of children you would have heard: Dear Little Stranger.
And these are the words:
Low in a manger, dear little Stranger,
Jesus, the wonderful Savior, was born.
There was none to receive Him, none to believe Him,
None but the angels were watching that morn.
Refrain:
Dear little Stranger, slept in a manger,
No downy pillow under His head;
But with the poor He slumbered secure,
The dear little Babe in His bed.
Angels descending, over Him bending,
Chanted a tender and silent refrain;
Then a wonderful story told of His glory,
Unto the shepherds on Bethlehem’s plain.
Dear little Stranger, born in a manger,
Maker and Monarch, and Savior of all;
I will love Thee forever! Grieve Thee? No, never!
Thou didst for me make Thy bed in a stall.
By the time the children reached their finale, "The Tree That Blooms at Christmas", Mercedes, Marie, Leroy, Roland, Edwin, Alice Mae, Evaline, and Billy wistfully sang their wishes for a Christmas tree with presents stacked underneath.
We, with hearts so light and happy
Gather 'round the Christmas tree;
There are gifts that love has given,
Gifts for you, and gifts for me.
Chorus:
See the tapers, lighted, burning,
Sending forth a cheery glow;
See the tree, a-sparkle, turning,
All its dainty gifts to show.
Tops and balls, and drums and every
Gift to mention, swinging there.
What care we, though snowflakes whitely,
Flutter through the frosty air.
For the tree that blooms at Christmas,
With its fruit so strange to see,
Bears amid the shining branches.
Some sweet, dainty gift for me.
As they sang, the children were glad for this holiday celebration at the schoolhouse ... and wondered whether their own tree would bloom this Christmas.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Based on an article in the Govert Advance, December 28, 1939; with gratitude to Marie Kulisich for assisting with details; Dear Little Stranger, Charles H. Gabriel, 1900; The Tree That Blooms at Christmas, Author Unknown, sung to "Let the Lower Lights Be Burning", Philip P. Bliss, 1871]
Thursday, December 5, 2013
What’s Happening in Govert, South Dakota: Thursday, 5 December 1940
In preparation for Christmas, 73 years ago today, the Govert Advance published the instructions for Santa’s helpers to craft a four poster doll bed. All a mommy or daddy needed were a cigar box, four wooden clothes pins, four wooden thread spools, scraps of fabric to make a pad, pillow, and bedding, and a bit of paint. This, together with a late night of gluing, sewing, and painting, might be the best a Goverite could offer a young daughter for Christmas after struggling through 11 years of the Great Depression. The good news: only one more year of the Depression. The bad news: America would join the war.
Reading beyond the cigar box doll bed that Thursday night in 1940, a Govert family might have been comforted by their decision to choose a home on the Harding County prairie, 1800 miles from the east coast, far away from the bright lights and the crowding in the cities, and far, far away from the political wrangling.
That Thursday night in Govert, farmers and ranchers shook the creases out of the Govert Advance and read that New Yorkers were now being warned to be alert for suspicious packages. The abandoned box, bag, valise, or satchel might be a bomb positioned by “subversive and destructive elements” in America. "Thank goodness we don't have to worry about THAT," Goverites echoed across the prairie. Why in the world would any subversive, or any foreign spy, waste their time traveling to a place where the two-legged population was far outnumbered by the four-legged variety?
Continuing through the newspaper, they read about the destruction left by Nazi bombs in England. And then the Govert Advance reported a survey conducted by the United States Employment Service revealing 215,000 people registered with employment offices throughout the United States for jobs in defense industries ... should they be needed.
In December 1940 the folks in Govert are less worried about an abandoned valise or satchel left in a place where a bomb might be calculated to cause maximum damage to resources or morale, and they are more worried about Christmas. So what happened in Govert, South Dakota, the first week in December in 1940? You saw it first in the Govert Advance:
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Based on the news reported in the 5 December 1940 edition of the Govert Advance]
Reading beyond the cigar box doll bed that Thursday night in 1940, a Govert family might have been comforted by their decision to choose a home on the Harding County prairie, 1800 miles from the east coast, far away from the bright lights and the crowding in the cities, and far, far away from the political wrangling.
That Thursday night in Govert, farmers and ranchers shook the creases out of the Govert Advance and read that New Yorkers were now being warned to be alert for suspicious packages. The abandoned box, bag, valise, or satchel might be a bomb positioned by “subversive and destructive elements” in America. "Thank goodness we don't have to worry about THAT," Goverites echoed across the prairie. Why in the world would any subversive, or any foreign spy, waste their time traveling to a place where the two-legged population was far outnumbered by the four-legged variety?
Continuing through the newspaper, they read about the destruction left by Nazi bombs in England. And then the Govert Advance reported a survey conducted by the United States Employment Service revealing 215,000 people registered with employment offices throughout the United States for jobs in defense industries ... should they be needed.
In December 1940 the folks in Govert are less worried about an abandoned valise or satchel left in a place where a bomb might be calculated to cause maximum damage to resources or morale, and they are more worried about Christmas. So what happened in Govert, South Dakota, the first week in December in 1940? You saw it first in the Govert Advance:
- "Herman West and Archie Cornella are hauling hay from the Primm place to the JX Ranch for Howard Sheridan. Howard will winter a band of sheep at the ranch."
- "Chester Phillips has been quite ill with pneumonia and was taken to the Buffalo hospital."
- "Mr. and Mrs. F.F. West, of the West General Store at Govert, were shopping in Belle Fourche, Friday."
- "Ann, Anton and John Kulisich were in Newell Friday, visiting the dentist."
- "Guests at the Bert Ellis home Thanksgiving were Mr. and Mrs. Paul Ellis, daughter, Nona, and son, Harold, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Class, Mr. and Mrs. Mitch Kulisich, daughters, Ann and Marie, sons, Anton and John, and Leonard West."
- "Wesley Horton and wife spent several days with relatives at Whitewood."
- "Nick and Pete Lale took their dressed turkeys to Lead and received very satisfactory prices."
- "Alice Mae West spent the weekend with Marie Kulisich."
- "Mrs. Westley Horton is visiting her daughter, Evelyn, at Custer. Evelyn is taking a Beauty course at Custer and making her home with Mrs. Horton’s sister."
- "Mr. and Mrs. Nick Lale entertained friends Thanksgiving Day."
- "Mr. and Mrs. Louie Frandsen were in Belle Fourche Wednesday to get his pick up repaired. Mr. Frandsen slipped off the grade and turned over causing some little damage."
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Based on the news reported in the 5 December 1940 edition of the Govert Advance]
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Govert, South Dakota, on the Move with Thrall Academy
Nevertheless, as an adult, Gus settled into farming in Minnesota, even had his own farm for a while. Then, sometime before 1920, Gus turned his back on the barn and the haystacks and moved his family to the lake town of Bemidji where Gus sold "Travelers Auto Assurance". In 1929 Gus turned around again, packed his car with his wife, two youngest children, and every possession he could wedge around them, and drove to Govert, South Dakota. This was April, before the Stock Market crashed in October, almost as if Gus knew what the future had in store for America.
Gus was old in terms of starting over yet again; he was already 51 when the Tobles left Minnesota. His three older daughters chose not to join this family exodus; life in rural America held no appeal for them. Maybe son Eugene who was 17, and daughter Evelyn who was 15, would have stayed in Minnesota, too, had they been given the choice.
Gus Toble's greatest talent was not farming, although he had some farming skills, and his greatest talent was not ranching, even though he was seen working on ranches in the Govert area. His greatest talent was picking up the necessary "know-how" to persevere, and to find a measure of success in any environment.
What does any of this have to do with the Thrall Academy in Sorum, Perkins County, South Dakota? After I tell you about Thrall Academy, I'll restore Gus to his rightful place in the history of the Academy.
Thrall Academy was a high school, a missionary project of the Congregational Church. The Academy was organized in 1913 at Sorum, maybe 28 miles from Govert, assuming you conscientiously followed the roads. Young men and young women throughout northwestern South Dakota attended Thrall Academy, some returning to their family homes at night if the distance and weather allowed, while other students boarded at the school. Perkins County hosted Thrall Academy, not Harding County, but Thrall Academy had Harding County connections in the community of Govert.
One of the Govert connections was Katie Lale (pronounced with a short "a" and long "e"), a boarding student at Thrall Academy. Katie climbed through every grade the Govert country school offered ... but for high school, Katie would have to leave her family behind on their Govert homestead. Fortunately for the Lales, Thrall Academy wasn't far away. When recently set to the task, cousins Katie Lale and Marie Kulisich, whose fathers both homesteaded at Govert, came up with the names of near a dozen neighbors who attended Thrall Academy: Alva Bekken, Amanda Bekken, Signey Adela Bekken, Dixie Blomberg, Mirelda Grandpre, Chris Lale, Katie Lale, Ralph Meyers, Edward Meyers, Herman West, and Richard West.
Herman and Richard West were the adopted sons of Forrester West, a Govert rancher. With his sons boarding at the Academy, Forrester spent the school year alone on his Govert ranch more often than not. His wife, Louise, was the Academy cook and housemother. Their three-year-old, Evaline, and her wee baby sister, Alice Mae, had their own jobs at the Academy as favorites among the Thrall Academy students. Today Alice Mae and Evaline rave about their mother's cooking, as if only yesterday their mother urged them to play quietly so the cake in the oven would not fall. These two grown women, together with the youngest West daughter, Shirley Jean, make the strongest among us yearn for even a whiff of one of Louise's cakes.
Thrall Academy has another Govert connection as well. Linda Shelton brings Gus Toble back into the story. Linda has a picture taken in about 2009 of a house near Bison, Perkins County, South Dakota. This was Gus Toble's last house in South Dakota. Little more than two years after the Tobles unpacked their car at Govert, Amy Birdie Hinton Toble, the woman who loved Gus enough to follow him from Minnesota to South Dakota, was killed when their Govert home burned. That was 1931. The entire town of Govert was horrified by poor Amy Birdie's death. Gus was devastated and mourned Amy Birdie without ceasing. After four years, Gus was given another chance at marriage when he wed the Widow Byers, who was Linda Shelton's Grandmother Elizabeth ... Amanda Elizabeth Williams Byers.
When I saw Linda's picture, something about the house was familiar but, I knew with absolute certainty, I had never visited this place where Gus Toble, formerly a resident of Govert, lived with his second wife, the Widow Byers.
According to Linda, her Grandfather Byers moved two dormitory buildings to the home site outside of Bison using logs and two teams of horses. These buildings he joined together to make a home for Elizabeth. "Dormitories" was a good clue, fully substantiated by an article about Thrall Academy in my files. In the picture below, the girls' dormitory is on the left and the Academy building on the right, with the boys' dormitory on the upper floor of the Academy building.
 |
| Thrall Academy circa 1915 (The American Missionary, January 1916, page 623) |
 |
| Toble-Byers House circa 2009 (Photo used with permission of Linda Shelton) |
You'll see a perhaps surprising fringe of trees in the picture of the Toble-Byers house. The prairie is not known for an abundance of trees. Pretty much, if you wanted a tree, you had to plant it. Linda's Grandfather Byers planted a hundred cottonwood trees ... not 10 or even 50 trees, but a hundred trees ... making the home a soft green oasis to a visitor driving up the lane.
Linda was disappointed her grandmother's house had completely disappeared before she drove by in spring 2013. So am I. But I'm grateful someone took one last picture of the Thrall Academy ... just in time.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to Marie Kulisich, Katie Lale, Linda Shelton, and Evaline, Alice Mae and Shirley Jean West]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)